


The View from the Cheap Seats

by Unsentimentalf



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unsentimentalf/pseuds/Unsentimentalf
Summary: Vila had decided that the thing he disliked most about Del Tarrant, and there had been an awful lot of things to choose between, was the way Tarrant looked at Avon.





	1. Alpha Quarrels

Vila had decided that the thing he disliked most about Del Tarrant, and there had been an awful lot of things to choose between, was the way Tarrant looked at Avon.

Admittedly Avon was an arrogant, heartless Alpha, but then weren't they all? Even Jenna, who had probably been the nicest of a bad bunch, hadn't paid any real attention to Gan or Vila, being concerned as Alphas always were with her own kind. For Vila, an unobserved spectator in the cheap seats, there hadn't been much to choose between them. 

Still, Avon was mostly a known quantity by now. He was, if you liked, a slightly tame arrogant heartless Alpha. Vila had made a bit of a hobby out of watching him surreptitiously and wondering what he might be thinking.

One look at Tarrant and you knew exactly what he was thinking. Tarrant was thinking that he ought to be in charge, with his Academy training and his hotshot pilot heroics and his pirate costume. Tarrant was an Alpha's Alpha, not prepared to listen to anyone he thought his inferior.   He'd started off just ordering everyone about automatically but he'd soon found to his frustration that Liberator's crew were far more likely to listen to Avon than to him. 

So now Tarrant was watching Avon too. Vila had a keen sense for trouble and there was definitely trouble coming. Probably not trouble directly for a canny Delta with a well-honed talent for being somewhere else when the fighting broke out, but Vila didn't want to re-emerge from one of his many hiding places on Liberator when the dust settled only to find that Del Tarrant was now in charge.

He wished Gan wasn't dead. Neither Cally nor Dayna understood about Alphas. He'd tried to explain to Cally once but she'd frowned at him, baffled. "But aren't they just humans like everyone else?" And Vila had failed to successfully articulate that yes of course they were and no, they really weren't at all.  He'd finally given up trying to talk to the women about the problems with Avon and Tarrant when he realised that neither of them had the faintest grasp of how social status and authority really worked.

So that left no-one for Vila to tell about the uncomfortable feeling in his gut as he watched Tarrant strut around the ship showing off, always with an eye on Avon. He couldn't talk to Avon about it, obviously, partly because it was Alpha business and no Alpha, however well intentioned, would listen for a moment to a Delta thief from the slums about that but mainly because he didn't talk to Avon about anything. Not directly. They were involved in the same discussions, often enough; they'd comment on each other's statements, but they didn't talk, not like he talked to Cally, say, or even Dayna.

He knew that he wasn't going to start, too. There was no way that he could knock on Avon's door and say "Hey, Kerr, how's it going? Had you noticed that Tarrant is out to get you? What shall we do about it, do you think?"

That left two options. The 'do nothing' one was highly tempting but he didn't like the possible outcome. Tarrant had made it quite obvious that there wouldn't be a place for Vila when Liberator was his ship. The other one was not going to be fun but what choice did he have?

 

The door slid open. "Oh, its you," the tall Alpha said without enthusiasm. "What's the message, then?" 

Vila forebore to point out that he wasn't just the ship's messenger boy. "Can I come in? I wanted to talk to you.”

For a moment it seemed that Tarrant would refuse, but after a beat he turned back into the room, leaving the door still open. 

Villa opened his mouth to say, "I like what you've done with the place” then realised that Tarrant had done nothing. He'd moved into Blake's old quarters when he came aboard (to be fair, Vila thought, no-one had been around to tell him they were Blake's quarters and no-one had since suggested that he move out again) and everything was pretty much as Blake had left it, which was a little unsettling.

“What is it then?” Tarrant said, leaning against a sideboard that Blake had been particularly fond of and looking at him in an not particularly friendly way. Vila sat down in a chair, without invitation but he wasn't going to stand. He had had a small drink, just to get up his courage, before he came and he now wished he'd had a larger one or better still several large ones.

His opening gambit seemed a bit weak but he hadn't got anything better. “What do you think of the Federation?” he asked.

“What are you? Liberator's political security officer?” Tarrant demanded.

“I was just interested,” Vila said meekly. “We are meant to be fighting them after all. I just wanted to know how you felt about that?”

“And how do you feel about that, Vila?” Tarrant asked.

“Terrified,” Vila said. “They keep trying to kill me. I'd rather not be fighting anyone, to be honest, but I don't call the shots around here.” 

Tarrant laughed at that, as if he haf made some sort of joke. “Is this why you're here, to try to talk me into keeping you safe? 

“Well, Avon won't do it.” Vila said. He could lie better than anyone on the ship but it was always neater to tell the truth where possible. 

“Maybe you should jump ship. No-one will miss you,” Tarrant said unkindly. 

“I've thought about it,” Vila said sadly, “But Cally and Dayna are my friends, and I'd like to find Jenna again. Besides, with a ship this fast and some good people we could steal anything in the galaxy.”

Tarrant snorted at that. “Anything? Like we did on Kairos? You're out of luck, Restal. I happen to think we should be going up against the Federation. What else is a ship like this for? Now off you go. The scent of cowardice is tainting my air supply.”

Vila slunk out past the rather nice picture of ringed moons that Jenna had bought Blake on one of the supply planets. He hadn't expected to get agreement. He'd just wanted to know a bit more of how Tarrant thought and to plant a few seeds of ideas in the man's head. Tarrant hadn't said anything surprising or intelligent, he thought. Avon should be able to run runs round the man. But just in case he didn't, Vila was on the case.


	2. Tarrant's Aunt

“What else is a ship like this for?” Tarrant demanded, his voice rising a little. “Come on, Avon. Don't tell me you're as yellow as Vila?”

“Sitting right here, you bastard,” Vila thought, but said nothing.

“Vila has survived a great deal over the past two years,” Avon said without looking at him. “I expect he'll survive a great deal more. You on the other hand are determined to get yourself killed and I've no intention of accompanying you.”

“Two years?” Tarrant was scornful. “I was an independent back when you were still sitting at your desk writing code. Don't tell me I'm not a survivor.” 

“And how often did you attack a Federation base head on during those years?” Avon enquired.

“I didn't have a ship like this.” Tarrant retorted. “What's your excuse?”

“We had more sense.” Avon said. “What are you going to do after you take out this base?”

“Take out another one,” Tarrant said cheerfully. “And another.”

“Of course you will,” Avon said. “And the third or fourth one will come with a dozen pursuit ships waiting out in the dark, and that will be the end of your part in the Revolution. No, Tarrant. Put it to a vote if you must but it won't get you anywhere.”

“So what's your plan, then?” Tarrant demanded. “We're not even a minor inconvenience to the Feds at the moment. We're just a useful bit of propaganda. If we didn't exist they'd have to invent us.” 

Vila shot a quick look at Tarrant over the top of his console at that last remark. The man was right about that much. Maybe he did have a trace of a brain after all.

“We should do something, Avon.” Cally said. “We wouldn't have to repeat ourselves. Tarrant's got a point- we're not doing anything out here at the moment. Blake wouldn't think much of his legacy right now.”

“If Blake cared about his legacy he should have stayed around to do something about it,” Avon said sharply. “As it happens there's something I could do with picking up from one of the Fed military scientific bases nearby. I was planning to go for the subtle approach but if you lot want to play at heroes and go in all guns blazing I might be able to make use of the distraction.” 

“So what is it that you're after?” Tarrant asked.

“Nothing you'd understand since you haven't spent years at a desk writing code, and I'm not going to spend an hour explaining it to you. It will be useful to us- that's all you need to know.”

“Avon's gizmo doesn't matter,” Dayna was impatient. “Where's the base and what are its defenses like?”

“Give me some uninterrupted time with Zen and Orac and I'll have all the details you need,” Avon said. “If you could all move your chatter to the rec room that would be a start.” 

Vila didn't move as the others left the flight deck. “I won't say a word,” he said to Avon's look. “I'll just sit here and monitor scans.”

“Avoiding him, are you?” 

“I'm just not in a chatty mood. You'll forget I'm here, honest.”

“Well. As long as I do. Not a word then. Not even a whisper.”

“Not a whisper,” Vila promised.

He sat in silence, watching the scanners' representation of empty space as Liberator sat almost motionless with respect to the nearest stars. They were highly unlikely to encounter anything so most of his attention was on Avon's curt interactions with the computers.

It seemed that Orac lacked more than a basic schematic of the base. Avon appeared to be trying to establish its likely military numbers and weapons based on known ship movements. Since all his results were routed to his console Vila wasn't getting much sense of how he was doing, but he certainly looked irritated.

After an hour or so Avon abruptly strode to the door. He turned in the exit, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Coffee?”

“That would be nice,” Vila said, startled into banality.

“Keep an eye on everything. I'll be back shortly.”

An eye on everything. That sounded like permission to be nosy and if Avon had gone for coffee he'd be out for at least ten minutes. Vila slid out from behind his tediously empty scans and went to see if Avon's console showed anything more interesting.

It war sufficiently intriguing that Vila was still poking through the collected data when Avon's voice came from behind him. "Any suggestions?"

"It would help if I knew what you were stealing and from where."

Avon passed him the coffee and came up to stand beside him. "I wish I was sure myself. The object we're after is a hardware/software amalgam, probably running on a small portable computer but it could be installed in a large machine or even some sort of robotic device. There are three labs on the base." Avon pointed out the the areas spread across the small dome. "I have no data as to which it's likely to be in."

"So you don't know for certain where it is or what it looks like " Vila said. "Are you sure it's even going to be portable? Stealing is going to be tricky if the computer weighs half a ton."

"I'm not sure of anything," Avon said. "If it wasn't for our friend's sabre rattling I'd put the whole thing off until I can get better data but he seems determined to attack something and I might as well make sure that isn't a complete waste of time."

Vila looked back at the map of the complex and the speculative estimates of the defences. The whole thing made a highly unappealing prospect for a professional thief and he was tempted just to tell Avon to give it up. But Avon had actually asked him for advice and he didn't want to be a disappointment. Besides, if Avon could turn Tarrant's attempt to lead Liberator into battle into a sideshow for his main event, that was undoubtedly one up for Avon. 

“We're going to need eyes and ears in the labs, “ he said. “Any idea what sort of guards they use?”

“Elite Federation soldiers. They change them every three weeks.” 

Vila snorted. “Now if only we had access to an elite Federation soldier at short notice we'd be laughing.”

Avon gave him that slight, sharp smile. “Time to get the others back in then.”

Tarrant was not keen on the suggestion. “How am I meant to pilot Liberator in an attack if I'm stuck in a bloody laboratory?”

“You get a gun,” Avon said. “Think of it as spearheading the ground attack.” 

“Avon and I saw how convincing you were as a Federation Officer,” Dayna said. “None of the rest of us could do anything like that.” 

“I know I can do it.” Tarrant sounded even more annoyed. “I don't need to be flattered into this. I just don't yet see the point. If Avon tells us what this thing is that we need so badly I'll decide whether it's worth my while standing around taking orders for a couple of weeks to get it.”

Avon sighed. "You might have heard of psycho-strategists, I suppose." 

"My mother's sister is a puppeteer." Tarrant said. "Maybe we'd do better if you didn't treat me as an idiot." 

Vila shot a quick sideways look at the man. There were Alphas and Alphas, of course. Apparently Tarrant's family were the sort that became puppeteers and senior military brass. Vila wondered briefly what Avon's family had been like. 

"Very well.” Avon said. “There is a Federation project to create an expert AI system that learns from the experience of the top psycho-strategists. The Federation think that the ability to get its detailed strategy predictions without having to deal with the individual idiosyncrasies of the so called puppeteers would be an excellent thing. It would also be a crucial improvement in Orac's abilities, assuming that we can get hold of the system and incorporate it into its programming."

" How do you know about it," Cally asked. 

"A couple of the psycho-strategists don't seem to be keen on the idea of being supplanted by a computer system. Information about the project had been circulating for a while on a subversive analyst network that I keep an eye on." 

Tarrant was shaking his head. “Forget the whole thing then. We don't touch anything the puppeteers have had their fingers in. If one of them leaked this information to your network then have no doubt that they've calculated who will see it and what they will do. Chances are we'll run into a lethal welcoming committee as soon as we get anywhere near that base. 

Avon frowned.“It's more likely that they'll help. They want it stolen or destroyed.”

Tarrant snorted. “Likely means nothing in this circumstance. What are you planning to do, contact them and ask them to clarify their motives? You can't out-think a psycho-strategist, Avon. All you can do is run and hope you end up far enough away from their current sphere of interest to no longer be part of their calculations, which is what Liberator should be doing.”

Dayna had her hands on her hips, unimpressed “Seriously? We're going to run away in case we meet Tarrant's aunt? These puppet people don't have ships like Liberator, do they?”

“It's not a matter of ships.” Tarrant said. “Psycho-strategists are frighteningly smart with an ability to plan ahead in great detail.”

“Well so is Avon frighteningly smart,” she retorted. “And we've got Orac to do the planning.”

“It seems a bit early to give up,” Cally added. “If this thing's dangerous then we need to stop the Federation having it. We can be careful, after all.”

She turned to Vila. “Have you heard about these psycho-strategists?”

“I've heard of them,” Vila admitted. What he'd heard of them wasn't encouraging but he didn't really want to back up Tarrant. “I bet they aren't really as good as people say they are.”

“They're certainly not infallible,” Avon said. “They predict human behaviour, not random events. We just need to build in enough random choices to blind them.” 

“There you go,” Vila said to the room. “Avon's got a plan. We're fine.”

 

Tarrant continued to argue for a while but neither Cally nor Dayna had any more real idea of what a puppeteer was than what an Alpha might be and they clearly found any description that involved his aunt to be more hilarious than scary . Avon seemed set on getting his AI for Orac and Vila was mostly keeping quiet.

Heavily outvoted and clearly unwilling to be on the bench for the first serious action since Kairos, Tarrant finally agreed to take part in the revised plan that Avon would put together.

As the meeting was breaking up Vila headed off towards the galley, his thoughts mainly on the prospects of supper. A sharp voice stopped him.

“Hang on. I want a word with you.”

He paused unhappily as Tarrant strode towards him along the empty corridor. “What's your game?” the man demanded.

“Poker, usually. Though I'm usually quite good at Space Monopoly. The trick's to get hold of the refueling stations early...” 

His rambling wasn't going to deter the pilot. “Yesterday you went to some trouble to complain to me that Avon's plans were dangerous. Today you're all in favour of going up against the Fed military and the psych-strats at the same time. You're up to something. I want to know what.”

“Honestly, nothing,” Vila protested. “I think it's a good plan, that's all.” 

Tarrant leaned one hand onto the corridor wall next to Vila's head so that he loomed over the smaller man. He was quite intimidating close up. “I can manage Avon,” he said, more conversationally. “He'll figure out soon enough that I've got what he lacks and he'll come into line, just as he did with Blake. But you... what are you up to, little rat? What's he promised you? You'd be wise to come clean. I need Avon. I don't need you.” 

“He didn't promise anything,” Vila protested. “Why would he need my help? He's Kerr Avon and I'm just a Delta thief.” 

Tarrant's eyes flickered over his face and he laughed. “You've got a bit of a crush, haven't you?” You've got no chance. I doubt if Avon's dick's ever been near anything that wasn't pure Alpha for twenty generations back. He doesn't strike me as the type to go slumming.” 

Vila felt a brief moment of genuine hatred for the man but he thought he'd hidden it well enough. “You can think what you like. I don't care at all.” He twisted under Tarrant's arm and walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a run back towards his quarters.


	3. Experimental Protocol

“One adult male Delta, reasonable physical condition.” The elderly man in the white coat frowned at Vila. “Are you sure he's sufficiently intellectually challenged? He looks rather alert.”

“He's certified Delta,” Tarrant said without concern. “That means stupid. I suppose you could retest him if you want to be sure.”

“Oh, I haven't time for that,” Dr Teris said. “We start the trials with the new formula the day after tomorrow, I've got a VIP visit this afternoon and I'm rushed off my feet. Thank you, Lieutenant. You've been a great help. I can't tell you how difficult it is to find a male Delta in good condition at short notice round here. Drugs, poor nutrition, work accidents- they just have no idea of how to look after themselves.”

“That's no problem” Tarrant told the man. “It was the least I could do after the unfortunate accident with his predecessor.”

“No harm done,” Teris said genially. “I hadn't yet started him on the latest formulation and this one will doubtless do just as well.” 

Hr turned back to Vila and extended a handheld console. “Put your thumbprint on here, lad, and we'll find you as much food as you like and the most comfortable bed you'll ever have slept in.”

Vila rapidly skimmed what he could see of the detailed informed consent form above the space for his print. It seemed to contain mainly of an awful lot of things he was supposed to have been warned about and hadn't been. He dutifully pressed his thumb onto the screen and was now, he supposed, officially registered in whatever trials the man was conducting.

As the doctor turned away he took the opportunity for one last scowl at Tarrant. It had been the pilot who had suggested that if he was the only person who could successfully play a Fed officer, Vila was the only one who could pretend to be a Delta research subject. Now they were both on the research station with a brief to find Avon's artificial intelligence project. Tarrant was no doubt heading for comfortable quarters and a good meal while Vila wasn't at all sure what was in store for him.

An aide bustled him down a long corridor and through a set of unimpressive security procedures. Vila could see a couple of people in uniform watching a set of screens. He was told to change out of his ordinary clothes and given a green hospital gown. Vila watched his possessions being sealed in a locker. He'd expected this; there was nothing incriminating in there. Nothing useful either, unfortunately. 

Shortly afterwards he was pushed into what had to be one of the rooms from the screens, a large rec room from the look of it. About five men looked round at him from in front of the vid screen.

“Hello,” he said to them. They were quite clearly his fellow test subjects. “Nice to meet you. So, what do we do for fun around here?”

“Shut up,” the largest man said aggressively. 

“I was only...”

The man strode across to him and pushed him up against the wall. “Shut up” he said loudly, and, much quieter. “Act dumb. Dining hall in five minutes. Then we'll talk.” 

“I'm Mervis,” the man said, much more calmly when Vila had followed his instructions. “And the cameras are out in here at the moment. We make sure there's always one out but we shift the faults around. It's driving the techs crazy. They think it's mice.”

“So why are we playing stupid?” Vila asked. 

“That's old Teris's thing, isn't it? Stupid Deltas. As long as you screw up his tests and don't talk too smart when the cameras are on you get to stay. It's a bloody cushy number in here, I can tell you. Free food, 3D vid, no work. Only thing wrong with it is that there's supposed to be no booze and they keep you away from the women but you really want either there are ways, I can tell you.”

“So what about the drugs you're given”

Mervis shrugged. “Fat chance. I've been in here a couple of months and never seen any drugs. Just the tests, every day.”

Vila glanced around the dining hall, It seemed to be large enough for a dozen people. “What if you don't want to stay here?”

“That's the best bit,” Mervis looked highly pleased with himself. “You want out, you just start doing better on the tests. Guess we're no use to to the boffins if we're not so dumb. They come in and they say 'hey lads, so-and-so, they've been sent home' and that's it.” 

Vila wondered briefly if Tarrant was right after all about Deltas. No, that wasn't fair. These guys were ordinary workers, they had probably never even seen an Alpha close up before they signed on here. They'd thought they'd found a way to scam the posh guys to get a few weeks holiday from their heavy boring dangerous work without having to worry about where the next credit was coming from. How were they meant to know that Alphas never played fair? 

“We're an easy going lot,” Mervis assured him. “Only rule is that no-one puts out for the guards unless they each bring a bottle of spirits. Half that's yours, the rest gets shared around. You have any sort of trouble with them, let us know and we'll sort it out.”

“Does trouble happen a lot?” Vila enquired.

“Nah, we're usually pretty good. Poor old Greid's in the hospital now with a broken knee but that could have happened to anyone.”

Vila wondered if Greid was the man he replaced. Tarrant hadn't said how he'd fixed that, just that he had. “What happened to him?” he asked with carefully casual curiosity.

“He was doing a guard in the showers a couple of days ago, slipped on the wet tiles. The other guy was really nice about it- we got a couple of good bottles out of that one, much better than the usual cheap crap. They're gone now, though,” Mervis said sadly.

“It wasn't the soldier with really short black hair that I saw in the security room, was it?”Vila enquired. 

Mervis shook his head. “New guy. Tall, brown curls, talks a lot. One of the lads said he was an officer but they all look the same to me. The guy you saw called Jerress and yeah, he's pretty fit. If you want him let me know and I'll fix it up. Just hang something on the peg next to the shower room door when you're using it. It's the only place you'll get some privacy round here.”

“Don't they have cameras in the showers?” 

“Oh cameras, sure.” Mervis was dismissive of the constant observers. “I meant the other lads won't walk in on you. It's a good place to talk as well, though; as long as you've got the water on full blast they can't hear a thing.”

Something of Vila's emotions must have shown on his face because Mervis leaned forward to clap him on the shoulder. “ Don't worry, mate. If it's not your sort of thing just say and we'll make sure no-one bothers you.” 

Vila was highly tempted to say just that, but Tarrant had his bracelet and he had a horrible suspicion that this might be what the man had been talking about when he'd blithely told Vila that they'd be meeting up regularly without arousing suspicion. Not that he'd...well, not with Tarrant. Not a chance. But if it was the only way to talk in private he'd have to pretend. “Not right now, anyway,” he said firmly. “Maybe when I've got used to the place.”

A loud speaker interrupted the conversation. “All test subjects to the laboratory.” 

“That's us,” Mervis said without any noticeable concern. “Just remember that us Deltas are dumb as fuck. Don't let the side down, now.” 

Vila assured him that he wouldn't.

A few minutes into the test Vila surreptitiously tapped the key to mute the headphones that were clearly and distinctly repeating the questions on the screen for the benefit of semi-illiterate Deltas. He was far more interested in the conversation currently going on behind him.

“Fractured kneecap.” Teris was saying with irritation. “The stupid nurse gave him painkillers of all things! Completely against the protocol. I had to take him out of the next trial. At least it wasn't a complete waste. There was definite evidence of changes in the hippocampus. If you'll look at this screen I can show you where...”

“I'm more concerned about the evidence of illicit interactions between the guards and your test subjects,” a sharp woman's voice said. 

“Pardon me, Madam Deputy Commander, but we are following the original experimental protocol,” Teris said with dignity. “Drinking and fornicating is an essential part of Delta natural behaviour. They get physically ill if you try to keep them sober, you know? So we make both available via the guards and track the take-up as part of each subject record. There's a clear correlation between low IQ and levels of gross indulgence- in fact I intend to publish a paper on that very subject in the next couple of months.”

“And what effect does it have on the discipline of my soldiers? Are you planning to publish a paper on that too, Dr Teris?”

“It's all cleared with the base captain, Ma'am.” Teris said, a little sulkily. “It's been running three months and I haven't had any complaints.”

“You can be sure that I will be speaking to the base captain about the matter myself. Very well. I want a report on your progress or lack of it on the inhibitors on my desk by the end of this afternoon. Good afternoon Doctor.”

Vila was so distracted by the implications of this conversation that he carelessly gave the right answer to three questions in a row and had to work out which was the unmarked 'back' control button in order to put them wrong again.

After the lights went off that night he lay in the half empty dormitory, listening to the heavy breathing of the other men sleeping and considering his situation.

Tarrant had told him to stay put and wait for contact, but maybe Madam Deputy Commander had already put a stop to the comings and goings of the soldiers? It was only two nights until the next trial began and he would be drugged with some experimental mind altering crap in the food or the water or maybe even the air supply. And his bracelet was in the hands of Del bastard Tarrant. 

He really wanted a stiff drink right now. It would calm his nerves and help him sleep. How did everyone else manage all this harsh reality unfiltered by a gentle application of alcohol, or better still soma? Then he remembered Teris's comments and felt bad for even wanting one. He was hardly addicted to fornication, anyway, not these days. The occasional shore leave, that was all. It was completely unnatural, that's what it was. Hardly surprising that he'd started to think about ...

He pulled himself sharply away from that train of though. Slumming, Tarrant had sneered, which was a joke given what Tarrant had apparently done. What did “doing a soldier” mean, precisely, anyway? Various possibilities flickered vaguely through his imagination. Whatever it was, it had led to Greid's injury and then what? Vila didn't know what a hippocampus was but he really didn't trust these Alphas. 

Lying here wasn't achieving anything. He had just determined to take a quiet look around the security gates and started to get out of bed when a familiar silhouette appeared in the dormitory doorway. 

“You. The new one.” Tarrant's voice was low but still managed to carry utter disdain. “Come with me.”

Vila sighed and padded after the Alpha. “You'd better have my bracelet” he whispered as he caught up. Tarrant said nothing until he'd led him into the communal showers. Then he turned.

"Is this what you're looking for?” A bottle appeared from under his short military cloak. 

Vila gave him a scowl, took the bottle and opened it. The harsh spirits made him gag a little but he drank enough anyway to feel the familiar heat in his gut and the start of a little relaxation before putting it on the floor to one side.

““You're not shy, are you?” Tarrant asked.

Vila resisted the temptation to glance at the camera. Reluctantly he shook off his hospital night gown and, clad only in underwear, turned the showers on full.

WHERE'S MY BRACELET? He shouted at Tarrant over the noise of the water.

I'VE FOUND AVON'S THING. Tarrant responded

GOOD. GET IT AND GET OUT OF HERE. WHERE'S MY BRACELET?

CAN'T. IT'S IN A SAFE AND GUARDED. GOING TO HAVE TO GET YOU THERE AND CAUSE A DIVERSION.

TELEPORT ME BACK TO THE SHIP THEN, Vila suggested. 

Tarrant shook his head. YOU CAN'T JUST DISAPPEAR. THAT WILL TRIGGER BASE ALERT. TOMORROW. WAIT FOR ME.

YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE! IT'S NOT SAFE! Vila shouted back. He was face to face with Tarrant now and uncomfortably aware that at any minute Tarrant would tell him that he had to do something for the cameras. With the booze and adrenalin circulating around his veins Vila had a nasty feeling that it might look like he was enjoying it. 

He couldn't bear the waiting any more. He had to get it over with. DON'T YOU HAVE TO TAKE SOME CLOTHES OFF TOO? He suggested. FOR THE CAMERA?

Tarrant reached over, turned the water off and tossed one of the towels hanging up to Vila. “No need,” he said.. “Privileges of rank- the camera feeds have been off since I came into the test quarters. I'll see you tomorrow.” He started for the door, his smart black uniform still dry. “Oh, and look out for the floor. Apparently it gets slippery when it's wet.” 

That cut through Vila's aggrieved and drunken confusion. “Tarrant!” he said, urgent enough to make the man turn. “What happened to Greid? The guy with the fractured kneecap?”

The amusement drained out of Tarrant's face. “They killed him,” he said.

“You mean you killed him!” Vila accused.

Tarrant shrugged. “It made no difference in the long run. I've seen the experimental protocol. It requires dissection of the brains of all test subjects. They're going to kill them all. Don't drink too much of that bottle tonight, Vila. We have work to do tomorrow.” 

He walked out, leaving Vila clutching the towel to his chest with both hands as if it could give him any protection from his bright and sterile surroundings.


	4. Split the Atom

“Your play,” the man next to Vila said. 

“Sorry, Kesias.” He looked back at his hand. They were playing 'Split the Atom', a tediously simple childs' card game that everyone knew Deltas were inordinately fond of. Few people other than Deltas knew the subtle vocabulary of apparently irrelevant actions used to place complex bets on the game. A table of reasonably adept players could get through a full evening of illicit gambling while giving every impression that they were just sitting around talking while carelessly dropping cards on the pile. Their version was referred to fondly as 'Screw the Alphas'.

“Six,” he said, playing a seven, the miscall folding his hand. He'd had a good chance of winning but they were playing for the remains of Tarrant's bottle and he'd had more than enough of it last night.

Telling them wouldn't be enough. There were armed guards at the security gate and more soldiers beyond. He was going to have to figure out some way to get them out of the base altogether. That meant coming up with a plan, which really wasn't his thing. 

He played the rest of the hand out with genuine indifference. Around him the men were talking in lighthearted and barely coded language about how much was left in the bottle and what Vila might have done to earn it. These were the sort of men he'd been brought up with. When he was young he'd found their limited horizons and their lack of curiosity stifling. Now he just felt fiercely protective of a group of decent people that the Federation would kill as casually as lab rats and no-one would lift a hand to help because they were only Deltas. 

Maybe he could break out and kill Teris. Maybe they'd send the volunteers home if the experiments stopped. Just as likely they'd put them down as part of tidying up loose ends, or because they assumed that one of them was responsible for Teris' death. Besides, he didn't think he could bring himself to find a weapon and actually kill the man, even knowing what he did. 

It wasn't fair. He wasn't the one who came up with plans. He was just a Delta. And so were they, which was why if he didn't do something nobody would. He could still hear Tarrant's clipped Alpha tones- 'They'll kill them all' he'd said, and walked away. Nobody cared about Delta lives except Deltas.

So Avon would have to go whistle for his thing. Vila had a moment's sadness at that because he'd really wanted to be the one who helped Avon out, but this was far more important. Yet what could he do?

These thoughts were still running uselessly around his head as the door opened. For a moment he saw the man in the doorway as the others must see him; a tall handsome Alpha officer in harsh black and silver and with an assumption of natural command. Then it was just Tarrant, beckoning to him impatiently. 

The other men had gone quiet. As Vila glanced around he could see their gazes somewhere around Tarrant's feet in an automatic semblance of humility. Shifty, people said of Deltas, as if they chose to live like this, never looking directly at their betters in case someone took offence. He found that though he seldom got angry, right now he was furious on their behalf. 

As he joined Tarrant in the dining room the other man glanced up at the camera and said, “It's still out of order. I've fixed the guards. They're going to look the other way while I borrow you for a couple of hours. We've got twenty minutes to get over there. After that Liberator's making a bombing run to take out all this side of the base. In the chaos I'll order all the men away and you can open the safe.” 

Vila realised that his mouth was hanging open and closed it. "You bastard!" he said. For the first time in his life he felt no obligation to keep his voice down around an Alpha. "I didn't expect you to lift a finger to help them but I didn't think even you would just murder them for a fucking diversion! We're barely human in your eyes, aren't we? Well you can fuck right off! You'll have to take me out with them. I'm not leaving!" 

“Have you finished?” Tarrant asked

“I've finished with you." Vila said. 

Tarrant unhooked a small pouch from his belt. “These are for your barely human friends. Tell them to keep them well out of sight and not to put them on until they start flashing, in about 15 minutes. Then put them on straight away. Will they be able to understand that much?”

Vila was still staring at him. Tarrant sighed and walked to the door. “You lot. Get in here.” he commanded abruptly. As they filed in he tossed the pouch to Vila. “Tell them. And make it quick.”

Vila took a breath. He could feel the hard curves of the bracelets inside the leather pouch. “My real name's Vila Restal,” he told his fellow Deltas. “This is Del Tarrant. We're from Blake's ship Liberator.”

They said nothing. Vila resisted the temptation to look to Tarrant. He had to do this. “Greid's dead,” he told them. “So are all the others. They weren't sent home, they were killed. Doctor Teris is going to kill all of you so he can look at your brains, to see what the drugs he's been putting in your food have done to them.”

Now he had their full attention but they would still say nothing, not in front of an Alpha. 

“Blake says that there will be no Alphas after the Revolution,” Vila said. “We don't have grades on the ship.” That was a downright lie but it ought to be true. “We can get you out of here easily, but you have to follow my instructions exactly.” 

He tossed the pouch to Mervis. “The bracelets in there will start flashing in about fifteen minutes. Put them on as soon as they do. Don't mess around, just put them on straight away, all of you. And you have to keep them hidden until then. Understand? 

Mervis looked at the pouch in his hands as if it were a poisonous snake. “Can't you just show us what to do then?”

“I've got to be somewhere else,” Vila said. “I promised someone. I'll see you very soon afterwards. You can do this, Mervis. You have to put those bracelets on as soon as they start flashing. That's all you need to do.”

Mervis was clearly still thinking things through. He glanced over at Tarrant. “So he's not an Alpha?”

“I'm the man who's saving your life,” Tarrant said impatiently. “Shall we leave the political chatter for when we're on the ship? Vila, you've told them, now come along!”. He was already at the door. 

"He's our pilot," Vila said, which wasn't an answer but was all he could give them. "Never mind him. Trust me. You're in danger here. Fifteen minutes then put the bracelets on. Be careful until then, keep them out of sight. I'll see you soon."

He ran to catch up with Tarrant who was already half way down the corridor. 

"About time," Tarrant said. "The guards think I'm besotted with you so try to look suitably flattered." 

"I really wouldn't find that flattering ."

"No? Well pretend I'm Avon or something. Just get us past the guards and you can go back to trying to kill me by glaring at the back of my head."

Vila managed a simper for as long as the security personnel could see them, then went back to scowling as they hurried across the base."What if they don't put the bracelets on?" 

"Then we're in a mess," Tarrant said. "Cally said that she'd teleport down and try to get them out but it's dangerous. If she's spotted those guards will shoot without question."

"Liberator won't fire on the base anyway?" 

Tarrant glanced round at him. "You haven't much faith in any of your shipmates, have you? No, they won't fire." There was a very slight emphasis on the 'they'. "They might try dropping a couple of plasma torpedoes outside but that's unlikely to sow enough confusion to get us access to the safe. As I said, a mess. Let's hope you were convincing." He sounded dubious.

Before Vila could think of a reply Tarrant was pulling open the door to what looked like glorified broom cupboard. 

"Wait in here. We've got about five minutes till Liberator attacks, then I'll get you as soon as the soldiers are gone."

Vila grabbed his sleeve as he went to leave. "What if someone shoots you?" 

"Not getting sentimental now, are you?" 

"I want my bracelet. I don't want to be stuck down here. They dissect people like me, remember?" 

There was the slightest of pauses before Tarrant pulled a teleport bracelet out from a pocket. "Just remember that if you cut and run I'll be right behind you."

"How could I forget?" Vila said sourly. "I'm not doing this because you ordered me to. I'm doing it for Avon and the ship."

"I don't care why you're doing it," Tarrant retorted. "But I've already put a lot more effort into this stupid heist than it deserves. Don't screw it up." 

The door closed behind him. Vila clipped the bracelet onto his wrist. "Liberator?" he said into it. "Are you there?" 

"We're here." Dayna's voice came back. "Is everything all right?" 

"I have no idea," he said truthfully. "I suppose that nothing's definitely gone wrong yet."

"Get off the com then," Dayna sounded exasperated. "I need to pick up your friends any minute now." 

"OK, " he said and closed the link. At least the ship was out there and he had his teleport bracelet. Surely nothing much could really go wrong now?


	5. Withdrawal

“The new circuits cannot be integrated.” 

Avon stood back, hands on his hip. "Then tell me what I need to do to make them integrable!" 

“No such data available.” Orac said, a little smugly. 

“Can't you download the program into something else and upload that?” Vila suggested. 

“If I could do that I wouldn't be standing here arguing with a plastic box and the ship's resident idiot,” Avon said coldly. “It's a quantum AI system, not a few lines of code. What are you doing in here apart from distracting me?” 

“I don't really know,” Vila said rather humbly. “I thought I might be able to help.” 

“Then you thought wrong.” Avon gave him a considering look. "You seem to be endlessly underfoot at the moment. Tarrant's got a theory about that, you know.”

“Tarrant's a spiteful prick,” Vila said with feeling.

“That doesn't necessarily make his theory wrong,” Avon had gone back to applying an electric probe to the black box. 

Vila really didn't want to have this conversation. “I'll let you get on. You're busy and you're right, I can't help.”

“Coffee,” Avon said as Vila reached the door of the computer room. “And something to eat. If you've nothing better to do, that is.”

Vila set off to the galley feeling a little less awful. He couldn't believe that Tarrant had actually said somethingq to Avon though. What an utter bastard.

He was on his way back with coffee and a tray piled high with a selection of sandwiches and cakes when Cally caught up with him. 

“I've been looking for you all over,” she said. “Come and talk some sense into your friends.”

“In a minute. I've just got to take this stuff to Avon.”

“It's urgent, Vila!”

Reluctantly he followed her, tray still in his hands.

They had put the visitors in one of the larger dormitory rooms as they had refused to be separated. Now there was a sour smell of vomit coming from there but the door was blocked by Pathic. 

He was in his twenties, a normally cheerful Delta with red hair and a rather slighter build than most of his compatriots. Now, though, his chalk white face was shiny with sweat and he looked as if the back of the chair he was leaning on was the only thing holding him up but he held a metal rod in his hand as if he'd repel all comers. 

“What's happened?” Vila was dismayed. 

“You poisoned us!” Pathic said.

“Zen says it's withdrawal from the drugs they were on.” Cally explained. “Not likely to be fatal but they could be ill for days. The med unit could fix it but the stupid idiots won't co-operate.”

“It's not anything here that's making you ill.” Vila explained. “It's the drugs Teris gave you.”

“We didn't get ill there,” the man said aggressively. “Just here on your ship. After they gave us that food.” He glared at Cally. 

“It's drug withdrawal." Vila tried to explain. "Like with Stratus. You know what happens if people stop taking that.”

“Do you think we're stupid? We'd know if we had been given Stratus. None of us took anything like that there.”

“Just trust me,” Vila begged. “We can get you better.”

“Why should we trust you? “ His voice rose in indignation and the hand holding the rod shook. “You told us Greid was dead, but where's your proof? You told us we were in danger and you brought us here to be poisoned. You said there were no Alphas here- do you you think we're fools? Everyone here is an Alpha and you're just their servant. We're done listening to you. We want to go back.”

“You can't go back,” Vila protested.

“Are we prisoners?”

“Of course not. But you can't go back. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Shall I tell them?” Tarrant's voice came from behind Vila. “You can't go back because your cushy little prison along with the rest of the base has been destroyed. I don't know what sort of joyride you thought you were along for but you're on a warship now and the Federation is our enemy. We can treat this sickness just as we saved your wretched ungrateful lives but if you'd rather cower in here soiling yourselves like dumb animals that's your affair. Just don't expect us to cosset you through it.”

Vila slammed the tray down on the floor and the coffee spilled across it. “Don't speak to him like that!” he demanded of Tarrant. “You've no idea what they've been through.”

“It obviously wasn't all that bad. You heard the man- they want to go back to be dissected. Not even enough sense to stay alive. If they won't use the med unit, get them to close that door so the rest of us don't have to put up with the smell. We have work to do.” 

He disappeared back up the corridor and with a hesitant look at Vila Cally followed him.

Pathic was staring after them. “He's the boss here?”

“Tarrant? No he's not! If anyone is it's Avon, I suppose." Vila said. 

“That other guy?” Avon had apparently given the newcomers a brief look when they teleported on board before disappearing without speaking to them. “So where's he?”

“He doesn't really talk to people when he's busy. I'm meant to be taking this tray to him. Please use the med unit. It doesn't hurt and you'll feel much better.” 

Pathic looked at the tray. “Servant, I told you.” he said scornfully. “That mouthy Alpha of yours was all over the labs for a week before you arrived. Pulling rank- you know. It wasn't just Greid. Was that all part of the plan to rescue us?

“I don't know.” 

“Seems to me you don't know much about what they're doing.” Pathic said. “We're not eating or drinking anything else here and we're not going near any of your machines. Take us home.”

“You have to drink,” Vila said, dismayed. “You've all been sick. Look. I'll bring some water and I'll drink some myself to show you its alright. And I'll talk to the others about finding somewhere good for you to go, when you're better.”

 

He explained the situation as well as he could to Avon while the man finished what what left of the coffee.

"So, you see. I don't even know what Tarrant really did! Only that it upset them." 

"Have you asked him?" 

“Well, no."

"Then why not go and do that if you really want to know, and leave me in peace? As for what to do with them, there are two dozen nearby Fed worlds that wouldn't notice another five Deltas. Put them down on any one of those."

"To be miners, or farm labourers, or factory workers, you mean? Vila said, disappointed. "That's not much of a life."

"So what would they prefer? Or haven't you asked that either?"

"I thought we could give them some money and they could buy their way into the higher grades." 

Avon frowned. "I doubt that they are good performers enough to get away with that."

"Come on! You can't really believe that Deltas are all stupid? They fix the tests - everyone knows that."

"Of course they fix the tests," Avon said. "That's not the point. Deltas might not be any more genetically unintelligent than the other grades but they are uneducated, lacking in experience and culturally isolated. Would any of your friends back there really be happy courting a Beta partner, running a Beta business or mingling with Betas socially? They'll be better off among their own people."

"That's just an excuse to send them back to persecution and hard work." Vila told him indignantly. 

"I don't need an excuse since I don't care either way. By all means give them the money if you like and the others agree,". Avon said. "If they gamble and drink it away it's their own business. They weren't the purpose of the enterprise, after all. I have my own problems. Go away and sort out yours."

Most of the ex-experimental subjects seemed to be no better but Vila hoped they were no worse either. They appeared to be feverishly sleeping rather than unconscious. 

He spent ages lugging water containers and clean sheets around under the suspicious eye of Pathic, who was still unwell but considerably less affected than the others. Cally and Dayna had reluctantly offered to help but seemed relieved by Pathic's refusal to let anyone except Vila into the dormitory. Neither Tarrant nor Avon made an appearance. 

Pathic had a great number of questions that Vila answered with some disquiet. 

"So your ship didn't come to rescue us?" 

"We didn't know you were there, not until Tarrant did his recon of the base." 

"You were after this computer thing?" 

"Yes. Well, Avon was. We were getting it for him. I was meant to be opening the safe with Tarrant, but when we found out about you we obviously weren't going to leave you there."

"And then that Alpha says that you killed everyone on the base. You killed the nurses and the guards and the cleaners- all the other Gammas and Deltas. You didn't save any of them."

Pathic glared at Vila, "Why didn't you take those guns of yours and kill Teris and steal your computer and leave everyone else alone? Then we could just have stayed there and no-one would be ill."

Vila struggled to figure out where to even start to explain. "It wasn't just Teris that wanted to kill you. It was the Federation. That's what they do. And we're rebels--well, Blake was, and I suppose we all still are. Sometimes we have to do things like blow bases up." 

"That doesn't make it right to kill all those people, " Pathic insisted. "This place is horrible. We want to leave now." 

"You can't," Vila pointed out. Not when you're all sick. If you used the med unit... "

" We're not going near your sodding machines" Pathic snarled. "Not now we know that your bosses like just murdering people. Put us on a planet now and we'll take our chances." 

 

"What about Rood?" Vila suggested to the other Liberator crew. Avon of course wasn't there, having declared his complete lack of interest in the ongoing issue of their sick guests. "It's got a huge hospital. We could put them straight down there. And its not Federation." 

"Not quite," Cally said dubiously. "It's a Fed satellite world - they let it stay 'independent' for as long as it co-operates."

"Still, Orac says that it doesn't have a grade system, just money, and we can give them enough of that." Vila said. "The Feds aren't looking for them and we don't have to hang around, just teleport them down and fly away." 

"I don't really see why we should have to go to all this trouble to find them a hospital just because they are too scared to use the med unit," Tarrant said. "But if it gets rid of them, I suppose you can go ahead. Not too much money, though. We can't afford to give it all away. Five hundred credits each will be plenty." 

Vila suspected that Tarrant was trying to be deliberately stingy, but the rich kid clearly had no idea what tiny sums the people at the bottom of the heap actually managed to live on. Five hundred credits each would establish the men anywhere in relative comfort. 

"And the hospital fees as well," he insisted, appealing to Cally. 

She shrugged. "Of course. We have plenty of funds." Both she and Dayna seemed relieved that the problem of the Deltas might be disposed of so simply. 

 

"I'm reading transports and personal ships in the system only,". Cally's voice said. 

"Nothing with any real firepower," Dayna confirmed. "I'm opening a channel to the hospital now."

They had dragged Avon away from his still uncooperative computers for long enough to man the teleport. In the last hour the four sickest men had lapsed into unconsciousness, though their vital signs were still strong and Pathic, who appeared to have almost completely recovered, still refused to let the med unit be used. The still bodies were lined up on the teleport pad, bracelets around each right wrist.

"Ready to go," Vila confirmed. By now they were used to Pathic's refusal to deal with any of who he called the bosses and Vila had agreed to teleport down into the hospital ward and bring the bracelets back. 

Vila could hear Dayna passing over the co-ordinates from the hospital. Pathic was running his hands together nervously, his anxious glance never quite going up to Avon's face. 

"Very well. Six to teleport." Avon said. 

"Make that seven." Tarrant strode across the room, taking a bracelet from the slot as he went. 

Pathic looked straight at Tarrant. His expression had changed to one of startlement. "What are you..." 

"Seven, then" Avon said and slid the teleport lever.


	6. The Open Minded One

The white walls of the hospital came into existence around them. Vila could see medical staff coming forwards to kneel by the unconscious men.

A doctor walked towards him, hand outstretched and Vila extended his own automatically.

“Vila Restal,” the woman said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

He knew that voice. Its identity came to him just as she clasped his hand and the noise of one of Liberator's guns came from behind him. Too late to let go - her other hand was over his, a sharp pain in the back of his enclosed hand and the sound of another gun, not Tarrant's this time. He tried to turn but his legs were already giving way under him. As he fell the bracelet was deftly unclipped from his wrist.

“All set?” That was Pathic's voice, firmer than usual.

“Ready,” came several voices from around the room, one loud enough that it must have been next to him.

“Everyone be quiet then.” Pathic said.

Vila was flat on the floor now, dizziness overcoming him. He just heard Pathic's voice again, high and panicked this time, 

“You've put us in the wrong place! This is a radiation lab! Help! Get us out of here!”

Vila was beyond able to call out. He struggled to stay conscious for a few more seconds and then lost.

 

He woke very slowly, flickering in and out of consciousness for a while. Eventually he managed to open his eyes, only to find himself in absolute darkness. He was lying on a metal floor.

“Help!” he called out. “Anyone there?”

“So you're awake at last,” Tarrant's voice came through the darkness. “There's no-one except me here.”

“Where are we?”

“In the cargo hold of a small passenger ship. Judging from the acceleration pattern I would guess that we're a a couple of light years away from where we started off.”

Vila just about managed to orientate himself enough to sit up in the darkness. There had been gunfire- “Are you hurt?”

“I was hit by a stun pistol at close range. Bruises and I think maybe a couple of broken ribs. Someone went to the trouble of splinting my shoulder while I was unconscious so I imagine that must be fractured too. There's surprisingly little pain so I'm guessing they've given me painkillers too.”

“That's good, I suppose,” Vila said. “I mean, at least they wouldn't bother if they were going to kill us, would they?”

“Not yet anyway,” Tarrant said. 

“So what happened?”

“I recognised the woman as soon as we materialised. She was the deputy commander who had visited the base.”

“I know,” Vila said. “I knew her voice. She must have come after the escaped Deltas. I don't know how she found us though.” He was still confused about his last memories of the hospital. 

A snorting noise came through the dark. “She's not after your friends. She's after Liberator. Did you see any more after I was shot?"

Vila struggled to remember. "They took my teleport bracelet. Then Pathic told the ship we were in a radiation zone, but I don't think we were. Then I passed out "

"So Pathic was involved. No surprise there. I imagine they got themselves teleported straight back up to the ship. Seven bracelets - that means seven of them with weapons ready, when Avon would have been expecting just us and a bunch of comatose patients. What do you think the outcome was likely to be?”

Vila really didn't want to think about that. “Why did you come down? Were you expecting trouble?”

“Not specifically,” Tarrant said. “But I've been getting Orac to suggest unexpected actions and that was one of them.”

“You're still worried about the puppeteers?”

“And I'd say that I've been proved right.” Tarrant's voice was sharp. “They were waiting for us on that planet, at that hospital, at that moment. Nobody's sent any signals from Liberator, so they must have predicted what we'd do and when. Everything from finding out about the AI system, reconnoitring the base, finding and rescuing your bleeding hearts and teleporting them down to Rood. Who but a psycho-strategist could have predicted all that exactly?”

Vila thought about that for a moment. “But that would mean they knew we'd destroy the base. The Federation wouldn't let us do that.”

“They're not the Federation. The puppeteers have their own agenda, which is probably why we're not yet dead.”

“But she was a Federation Deputy Commander!” Vila protested.

“And I was a Federation lieutenant. Do you think we're the only people who can play that game?”

“Oh.” Vila said, trying not to feel foolish. He pushed himself to his knees and began crawling in a random direction.

"What are you doing?" Tarrant voice came from somewhere over his left shoulder now.

"There must be a door."

"At least two in a cargo hold. One into the ship, one out to cold vacuum. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" 

"Yes," Vila said confidently. "Doors are my speciality. I wouldn't space you by accident."

"That's not as reassuring as it might be," Tarrant said. "But I doubt that your objection to me goes as far as mutual annihilation."

"What objection?" Vila protested. He'd reached a wall and was now following it around to the right, still on his hands and knees. "When have I ever been anything but nice to you?" 

"A couple of days ago you announced that you were fucking done with me." Tarrant pointed out. 

"That was only because I thought you were going to leave the others there. You deliberately let me think that, too." Vila said indignantly. 

"Your reaction was rather amusing," Tarrant's voice didn't sound particularly repentant. "I'd been hanging round that place for a week playing soldier. It was dull. I needed some entertainment."

"According to Pathic you pulled rank to get yourself plenty of entertainment." Vila had discovered that Del Tarrant was considerably less intimidating if you couldn't see him. 

"Is that what he told you?" Tarrant sounded more curious than offended  
.  
"Well I didn't just make it up!"

"No, you wouldn't. Have you found a door yet?" 

Vila's fingers had just found the edge of a seal. "I think so." He started to feel around, very carefully not putting any pressure on anything that might conceivably be a control panel. It would be crazy to have a simple push button that opened the hold straight out to space but just sometimes people put crazy features in. There was a number pad at hand height, unilluminated but he could feel the faintest buzz that meant it was live. 

He put a hand up to the slight trace of warm air and followed it back to the grille above the door. Then he placed his ear against the metal and listened, hearing nothing. 

"I need to find the other door, " he told his companion. He could hear the man breathing more harshly. Maybe the painkillers were wearing off. Steadily he traced his way around the seemingly empty cargo hold to the opposite side and an identical door and numberpad. 

"We want the first one," he told Tarrant after examining it. "I'm coming back to it now." 

"How can you be sure?" 

"The air supply's coming in from above it. That's got to be coming from the inside of the ship, not outside. 

"That doesn't sound enough to be certain."

"I'm sure." Vila said. It was a small hold - he was back already. He put his hand up once more to the slight breeze, just to be sure he hadn't imagined it. "Are you going to be able to charge out there heroically and take out the entire ship if I open this door? 

"Not with only the use of one arm." Tarrant sounded genuinely regretful. 

"Maybe we should leave it shut then."

"Since they know who we are, they know that you'll open the door at some point," Tarrant said. "Given that they clearly don't want us dead I doubt if they'll be stupid enough to shoot on sight when that happens. I'm tired of sitting in the dark. Let's get things moving."

Vila paused with his fingers against the keypad. He wasn't sure that he wanted to get things moving.

"What do you think happened to Liberator?" he asked.

"That 's why I want that door open," Tarrant said.' I have no idea and I very much want to find out." And, quieter, maybe to himself. "I should have stayed on the ship."

Vila set to work to try to figure out which keys were most used. In the dark and without any tools it was going to take a while. His thoughts went back to the earlier conversation. 

"So did you? With the others?" 

"Why would it matter to you?" 

"Well, It"s a bit sordid, isn't it?"

"Supposing that I had," Tarrant said, "What would have been sordid about it? They weren't selling their bodies out of necessity, just hooking up for fun and to be bought a drink. Are you claiming you've never had sex under similar conditions? Or do you have a problem with inter-grade relations?"

"No, of course I don't," Vila said. "But you were pretending to be someone else. Someone who could have had them punished or killed. They couldn't really turn you down."

"Of course they could," Tarrant said lightly. "You underestimate your compatriots, Vila. They didn't have any particular fear of the guards around them. They were there by choice." 

"They weren't though, were they? They couldn't leave."

"They thought they could. You spent too much time with Blake, Vila; you've started to believe Deltas are all downtrodden and living in fear. You're all pretty tough. You do all right."

"They were being murdered, Tarrant!" 

"In that particular case, yes. But in general Deltas manage on their own fine."

"You don't know a thing about us."

"I bet I know more than you do about Alphas." Tarrant said smugly. 

"Really? I spent half my life in reorientation because Alpha judges sent me there. An Alpha sentenced me to Cygnus Alpha, and she didn't even look at me when she did it. I was rescued by an Alpha and when I die, which will probably be very soon, it will be because an Alpha's stupid plan goes wrong. We can't ever ignore you. You barely notice we exist. When has one of us ever changed your life?"

"Idiocy," Tarrant said. "You were sent to Cygnus Alpha because you couldn't keep your hands off other people's possessions, not because you were a Delta. They'd have done the same to me if I'd been a recidivist thief. Being an Alpha didn't save Avon, or Blake, or Jenna Stannis, did it? 

"And as for plans, we listen when you've got anybody worthwhile to say. I do anyway. I don't know why you're all googly-eyed at Avon when I'm the open minded one."

There was silence for a moment while Vila concentrated on the key. "Open minded meaning you like to screw Deltas?" he said at last.

"Open minded meaning I don't care what your grade is."

"You called me a rat," Vila recalled.

"So?" 

"So I think your open mindedness goes no further than the bedroom, or maybe the shower." 

"Ouch," Tarrant said cheerfully. "Well, you might consider that the bedroom is at least a start." 

Vila lost his place among the keys in the blackness and had to carefully feel his way back again. There had to be some alternative interpretation of this conversation, obviously. He just couldn't see it right now.

"Nearly done," he said. "I really need to concentrate for this last bit."

"Don't let me distract you," Tarrant's voice came over. "I'm just chatting to keep my mind off the pain."

Of course you are, Vila though to himself. Bastard.

A couple of minutes later he announced, "I can open it any time now. What's the plan?"

"Wait till I get over there".

Vila could hear the sharp intakes of breath as Tarrant came closer. "All right. Open it now."


	7. On Our Side

The door slid aside smoothly as the last key was pressed and Vila blinked in the bright light. There were two uniformed figures in the richly carpeted corridor some distance away from the doorway but right in front of them was the same woman again, this time in a knee length, shimmering green gown.

"I trust we didn't keep you waiting too long," Tarrant said in his most arrogant voice from beside him. A glance sideways showed Vila his white face and the slight quiver in the hand that clasped the bandaged shoulder.

"Not all all, since you were obliging enough to keep us informed of your progress in opening the door.” Her voice was a mix of amusement and mild concern. “Let’s find you some more pain relief and a place to sit down." 

Of course there would have been a microphone, Vila thought in dismay.

"What happened to my ship?" Tarrant asked, not quite aggressively but very definitely. 

"We can discuss that over drinks. There's really no rush, I assure you. The situation is currently quite stable." 

What did stable mean? The guards had guns but they were holstered. The woman was walking ahead of them now, easily within reach, not that Vila was about to leap forward and take her hostage. He supposed that she knew that. 

They were ushered into a small dining room with wine, glasses and what might even have been real flowers in a bowl on the long wooden table. An older woman and man stood up as they came in. 

"Oh my goodness, my poor boy!" the woman said. "You always did have to be so impulsive! How does your shoulder feel?" 

Tarrant had frozen briefly at the doorway but now he came in, with what sounded like a resigned sigh. "It will mend." 

"And this is your remarkably talented friend. Hello, Vila. How nice to meet you. Since Del's injuries seem to have made him forget his manners let me introduce myself. My name is Celicia Haren and Del is quite possibly the most reckless of my nephews. This is Tarek and you've already met Selanda." 

There was something of a family resemblance, Vila thought, as well as the startlingly identical accent. Celicia's hair was greying to lighter in shade and curled around her shoulders over the elegant jacket of her trouser suit.. He was about to say how do you do politely when Tarrant interrupted. He had put his hand down on the table to hold himself up but his voice was clear.

"What have you done with my ship, Aunt Celicia?"

"Your ship?" Her eyebrows arched. "I'm delighted to say that its crew are all safe. I'm sure that's what you intended to ask about first."

Tarrant didn't look at all cowed. "I'm asking about my ship. My big fast one-of-a-kind-in-the-galaxy ship. I'm going to be very upset if anything's happened to it." 

"There's no need to be so irritable, Del," his aunt said. "Those are painkillers on the table in from of you. Why don't you both sit down and have some wine while we talk?" 

So these were puppeteers, Vila thought as they poured him a glass of red wine. He'd always pictured them as grim faced and calculating, a bit like Avon but even more so. These three seemed cheerful enough. 

Tarrant was now being regaled with family-based chatter and looked thoroughly embarrassed about it, much to Vila's delight. There seemed to be no danger here and now that he knew the others were all right he was quite happy to sit back with a second glass of smooth wine, and then a third, watching Tarrant unsuccessfully try to turn the conversation back from the success of his youngest sister's latest art exhibition to the current whereabouts of the Liberator. 

"Don't be fooled by her manner, " the man sitting next to him - Tarek - said fondly. "She's remarkably proud of him. After all it can't have been easy for him, joining Liberator."

"Can't it?" Vila said, puzzled. He thought that Tarrant's arrival had been rather more difficult for the rest of them than for Tarrant. 

"Well, the existing crew - Kerr Avon, you, Cally and even Dayna Mellanby in her way-- have such remarkable and unique talents. Del's a skilled pilot, of course, but that's hardly comparable. There was a fair amount of debate as to how well he'd manage to settle down somewhere where he wasn't going to be the centre of attention and admiration."

Vila thought about this for a moment with bewilderment. "I don't think that's quite the way that Tarrant sees it. " he suggested cautiously. 

Tarek smiled at him. "Oh, it is," he said gently. Puppeteer, Vila reminded himself, which he supposed right now made him a puppet. Maybe it wasn't wise to take too much notice of what this man said.

"What do you think of the wine? I established the first new vineyard in fifty years on Io ten years ago- you know, no doubt, about the blights that killed off the industry there - and it's finally producing something drinkable. Growing grapes under domes is something of a dark art these days."

Vila nodded blankly to all this and sipped his drink. At the other side of the table Tarrant's voice had risen a little. "But in the cargo hold, Aunt Silly? And with the lights off?" 

"You could just have turned them on, Del," she said. "They were voice operated, of course."

"So why didn't you leave them on when you dumped us in there?" 

"A little darkness can sometimes be quite illuminating," she said. "Don't you find that, Vila?" 

There were the things he'd said to Tarrant in the dark but what an argument about Deltas could have to do with the psycho-strategists he couldn't imagine. 

"You were eavesdropping," Tarrant said sullenly. 

"Yes, dear, of course we were. Now are you going to have a little of Tarek's excellent wine to wash down these painkillers or are you going to sit there in discomfort and sulk?" 

"I think I'd like a word with Vila," Tarrant said. "Shall I assume that you'll be listening in to that as well?" 

"Not this time," Celicia told him. "You'll have your privacy, of course. Just do take the painkillers please." She rose and led the other two out.

"Won't they bug the conversation anyway?" Vila asked when they were alone. 

Tarrant snorted. "You can rely on family ethics. Stunning me, kidnapping me and taking my ship might be excused as professional necessities but lying to me would be downright rude."

"They're on our side, though, right? They're going to give the ship back?" 

"I thought they might be planting some idea like that in your head. That's why I wanted to talk to you. No, they aren't on our side. Liberator and Orac are the most powerful tools in the Galaxy and if they've really got them then they went to a lot of trouble to take them away from us. They aren't gong to hand them back just because I might whinge about how unfair it is."

"So what do we do?"

"For now we try to find out what's going on. At least this time no one's likely to shoot us out of hand. My aunt would have difficulty explaining to my mother why she had to have me executed." 

"And she's fond of you," Vila pointed out. 

Tarrant looked a little embarrassed at that. "Well, aunts. You know." 

Vila hadn't had any aunts quite like Celicia. "Is it a long time since you last saw her?" 

"Aunt Sissy? I suppose that would have been my graduation from the Academy. A fair few years ago, now. The whole family came to that. I was home on leave a couple of times afterwards but she was away. Psych strats are kept pretty busy. And after that...". He shrugged, one sided, and winced. " Well, let's just say that going home hasn't been an option for a long time."

He juggled the painkillers awkwardly in his good hand. "Never mind that. It's hardly important right now. The point is that we're dealing with not just one but three opponents who can virtually read our minds and we have no idea what they want from us. They have apparently captured Liberator and our people, we have no weapons and God knows who else is on this ship or where it's going."

"What do we have to do?" Vila put down his glass, somewhat chastened. 

"Hopefully one of us will figure that out," Tarrant said. He tossed the tablets neatly into his mouth and downed a full glass of the wine to follow them. "They can't put off telling us anything at all for much longer. For now just watch and listen, agree to nothing and remember that there are only three other people in this galaxy on our side right now and my second favourite aunt isn't any of them."

Vila thought of something else he ought to say. "If I'd known I wouldn't have said all the things - you know. I mean I'm not saying you didn't deserve them, but ..." he trailed off, uncertain how to finish. 

"Believe me, I wouldn't have said most of them either, " Tarrant agreed. "I just hope not too much of that conversation gets relayed to my parents. That will teach me to try to shock people when I don’t know who’s listening in." 

He broke into a sudden smile that had him looking much more like the old Tarrant. "Well, I suppose the one advantage of being on the Fed's most wanted list is that I'm unlikely ever to have to look my mother in the face again.”

"Were you trying to shock me?" 

"More or less," Tarrant said. "These painkillers are kicking in quickly. We should probably resume gentle sparring with our opponents before I fall asleep. Why don't you open the door and invite them back in?"


	8. Feeling Itchy

Vila was getting almost irresistibly sleepy. The wine probably had something to do with it, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, as compared to being drugged into unconscious which was not nearly as restful, and the cushions really were comfortable. 

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, since Tarrant was doing all the talking for both of them. 

"Vila!"

"I wasn't asleep!" he assured the voice, pulling himself away from the soft rest that he'd been leaning against. Both voice and shoulder were Tarrant's, it turned out. 

"You've been snoring for three hours straight," Tarrant sounded more amused than critical. "You haven't missed anything. But I'm guessing something's happened because now our hosts actually want to talk to us. Not that we're going to answer a single question until we know what's going on."

Villa wasn't sure why it had been necessary to wake him up just so he could not say anything but he sat up straighter and tried to mimic Tarrant's arrogant glower. 

The only other person in the room was Tarek, frowning a little at a hand console. He looked up at them. 

"I can tell you what's going on. A failsafe had been triggered on Liberator. The ship is currently not responding to any commands and it is travelling at standard by thirteen directly away from the galactic core." 

Tarek brought a map up on the large screen at one end of the room.  There was the quadrant, and the ship, already close to the galaxy edge, and its projected path directly out of the mass of stars into empty intergalactic space. 

Tarrant shrugged. "If you want my professional opinion, it's that you're about to lose the ship and everyone on board. Who is on board, by the way?" 

"Seven of our people and your three crewmates." Tarek considered him for a moment before he spoke again. "We do not believe that Kerr Avon is incapable of recovering control over the ship, should he decide to do so." 

Vila could feel Tarrant tensing a little beside him as the man spoke. "So now we come to our part, I suppose, which is to tell you which of our friends your people should shoot in the head first for maximum coercive effect." 

“You can safely presume that we already know more about Avon's psychological vulnerabilities that you do." Tarek said. "We even know more that Vila does, which is saying rather more." 

Vila cringed a little. Did they have to say things like that to Tarrant? It wasn't helping any. 

"So what do you want from us?" Tarrant demanded. "Because neither of us will help you take over our ship." 

Tarek sat back and looked at Tarrant. "What do you imagine that we would do with Liberator, should we gain control of her?" 

"Use her to forward your schemes, I imagine." 

"But use her how, exactly?" Tarek spread his hands and appealed to Vila. "Do any of us look like star ship adventurers to you?" 

"You'd have to hire a crew, I suppose," Vila said reluctantly. 

"And what hirelings might safely be trusted with the controls of the most powerful ship in the galaxy? How long do you think it would take any crew to stop taking our instructions when we can neither reward them better than piracy nor pursue them for our stolen property?"

"So what will you do? If you had the ship, that was?" Tarrant was managing to sound barely curious. 

"Form a partnership with a crew whose aims and aspirations are similar to our own - the downfall of the Federation and the restoration of democratic rule."

Vila narrowed his eyes slightly at Tarek. Really? A bunch of control freak Alpha puppeteers wanted a galaxy run by the ordinary people?

"You're suggesting an alliance with Liberator?" Tarrant asked. 

"More precisely, we're offering an alliance to some of Liberator's crew," Tarek said. "The ones we can work alongside. The ones whose aims and values we share." 

"And what about the others?" Tarrant asked. "Or would it be more correct to say the other?" 

"Think of it as a bloodless coup," Tarek said. "Or more accurately perhaps as a compulsory buy out. We have substantial resources. He would not leave empty handed, while you would find yourself with considerably more freedom of action than in your current frustrating attempts to reach consensus with someone who neither shares your priorities nor accepts your talent for leadership."

Now he's flattered both of us unnecessarily, Vila thought. He didn't like this at all. He felt itchy all over. 

Tarrant glanced at the screen. "Your plan seems to have a snag. Neither you nor I have Liberator."

"If you tell Avon that you've reached an agreement with the people who arranged the hijacking, he'll take the failsafe off. There's no need to tell him who we are." 

"Really?" Vila silently echoed Tarrant's scepticism 

"Avon's out of choices," Tarek said. "He knows the ship's going nowhere good. He'll be dubious at first but he'll welcome being talked into a face saving compromise. You will be potentially saving their lives, Tarrant. While the people on Liberator are following our instructions for now, there is a risk that the ship leaving known space will panic then into violent action. None of us want that."

"In that case, " Tarrant started. 

"Where's Celicia?" Vila interrupted. The other two men looked at him as if they'd forgotten he was there. 

"Celicia is handing communications with Liberator," Tarek said. "I can arrange for you to see her shortly, if you wish. Was there a particular reason?" 

"No reason. Sorry to be a bother," Vila said. "It doesn't matter."

"I need an absolute guarantee that none of my crew will be hurt, Avon included," Tarrant said. "And more details of how this alliance will work." 

"Of course," Tarek said. "We have three hours before we'll lose contact with Liberator so if we could get started now?" 

There was a lot of discussion and negotiation over coffee. It all sounded reasonable enough, Vila thought, and felt itchier and itchier. Two of the puppeteers were now talking to Tarrant but no one took very much notice of him. Celicia didn't reappear. 

Finally Tarrant declared himself to be adequately briefed and ready to talk to Avon. The four of them gathered in the communication room. Tarrant went forward to the com, and Vila found himself a seat to the side. He was looking between Tarrant and the screen but when he faced towards Tarrant he could just see Tarek's face. 

Tarrant opened communications and hailed Liberator. 

"This is Del Tarrant. I need to speak to Avon." 

Avon's face appeared. He looked tired, Vila thought, and uneasy. "Tarrant. Where's Vila?" 

"I'm here," Vila spoke up. 

"So what do you have to say, Tarrant?" 

Vila watched Tarrant's shoulders square, and the barely visible tension on Tarek's face. 

"Whatever you're doing, it's making the puppeteers really nervous," Tarrant said cheerfully. "I'd keep it up if I were you." 

Selanda reached forward and cut the connection. "That was extremely unwise," she said sharply. But Vila barely paid her any attention. He had seen the expression on Tarek's face, the real one, before the disapproval, but unfortunately he'd looked a fraction of a second too long and Tarek had turned to look straight back at him. 

"Tarrant!" Vila said urgently. "Tarrant, I don't think this is what it seems." 

"It certainly isn't", Selanda said. "We don't take kindly to being double crossed". Three guards had come charging through the door: two were hustling Tarrant out while the third stood in Vila's way. Tarrant was swearing too much at his assailants to hear anything, but Vila had to try. 

"Tarrant!" he shouted. "Why's your aunt not here?" But the door closed behind them and he wasn't sure that the man had heard him at all.


	9. Piece of Cake

"I do apologise for leaving you alone for so long." 

Vila looked up from the spread of cards on the table in front of him. He'd heard the footsteps and the noise of the lock disengaging just in time to replace the wood panel over the disused service hatch he'd found and get back to his seat. 

Celicia was placing a tray on the dining table next to the patience game."Recalculating probabilities is a long and arduous process and we couldn't make any decisions until it was done." Had she seen him moving? Did she know about the hatch? He thought not.

The tray held coffee and two generous wedges of lemon cake with thick icing. Vila had never been imprisoned anywhere with cake before. Half his mind was wondering how easily they thought he could be bought, the other half was wondering whether it would taste as good as it looked. It had been a long time since his last meal.

Celicia smiled at him. She looked professional and competent and if Vila hadn't spent half his life being sent places that he didn't want to go by professional, competent people he might have relaxed a little. Instead he said "I heard shouting."

“Del is confined to crew quarters and making a fuss because no-one's paying him any attention." she said easily. "Do sit down." One of the coffees was pushed towards him. 

"Can I talk to him?"

"I think you ought to talk to me first. Don't you?"

Vila ducked his head. "Got nothing to say," he said meekly. Just a dumb Delta here. Leave me alone. 

"You had plenty to say earlier. You were most eager to tell Del that none of this was what it seemed." 

Shit. "Just a gut feeling. I was probably wrong. I'm often wrong about stuff." 

She frowned slightly. "This will go faster if you assume I can tell when you're lying. Cake? It's very good - Tarek makes it." 

Vila took a piece of cake, just to be polite. 

"If you know everything" he said through a mouthful, "why are you bothering talking to me?" 

"Because this conversation is about what you know, not about what I know," Celicia said. "Not a gut feeling, Vila. A deduction."

"I'm not telling you anything until I'm sure that Tarrant's all right," Vila said, a great deal more boldly than he felt. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"Why what?" 

"Why do you care what happens to Del? It's not as if he's in any danger here; you can see quite well that he's safe with me. But if he was somehow dissuaded from returning to Liberator wouldn't that turn out best for everyone else? For Kerr Avon? For you?"

She sat back and looked at him with something like pity. "After all, do you really think that he's spent any of the last three hours asking about your welfare, Vila?" 

Vila finished the cake while he thought about puppeteers and puppets and Del Tarrant. It tasted even better than it looked. 

"Yes," he said finally. 

She raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes I think he's asked about me. Not as much as about the others, probably, because he kind of likes them and he doesn't think I'm much use, but I bet he's at least asked once." 

He looked at Celicia's blank expression. "Perhaps, anyway?" He suddenly felt like a fool. Of course Tarrant wouldn't care. 

She broke into a smile that was distinctly aunt- like. "I understand that Del's been quite creative in his descriptions of what will happen if you're not returned to him completely unharmed."

"I don't understand what's going on," Vila said rather plaintively. "What do you want? Why can't I talk to him?" 

"Because my nephew may consider himself a paragon of many virtues but fortunately he is not as intelligent as you are. We can't have you telling him what you know." 

"I don't know anything," Vila said, a little sullenly. 

"Nonsense. You knew what Del would do. You knew why I wasn't there. You could work out the rest if you thought about it for five minutes instead of waiting for one of those Alphas you complain about so much to turn up to tell you what to do."

He'd had a teacher once who said that she'd "seen something" in him. She'd looked at him with just this mixture of encouragement and frustration. But a couple of weeks later he'd been moved to another juvenile facility and he'd been better at keeping his head down there because no one said anything like that to him again. 

There was nowhere to hide this time and Vila didn't think much for his chance of convincing those sharp eyes that he was just blundering around getting the odd thing right by accident. 

"Think about it now," Celicia said. "Then you'll be ready to co operate with us and we can discuss what happens next." She picked up the empty tray and turned to the door. "You'll soon understand that there's really no need to worry about Del, or Avon, or the rest of them. Just knock on the door when you want to talk." 

The door closed, leaving Vila to finish his coffee and worry about what to do next. 

If that was what Tarrant's family was like, he was starting to think that maybe the man wasn't entirely to blame for turning out a bit obnoxious. Celicia and her fellow puppeteers might not have set up the deadly experiment on the Deltas but they'd used their murders to trick Vila and Tarrant instead of trying to save them. Then they'd kidnapped him, lied to him and put strangers with guns on Liberator to threaten his friends. A piece of rather nice cake didn't go any way at all to making them into good guys. 

Maybe Celicia was right. Maybe if Vila worked out what the psycho-strategists were really up to he'd take their side against Avon and the others. He found that idea frightened him even more than not known what was going on. 

Sod this. He was going to try to find Tarrant. The hatch would unlock with a bit of work and he knew which direction the shouting had come from.

The disused service channel only went one way, but it was fortunately the direction that he wanted. It was pitch black and thick in places with dust and oil. Without a minute or so Vila had lost track of exactly how far he'd crawled. It was impossible for him not to think however much he tried not to, though Avon would no doubt find that hard to believe.

His mind kept coming back to the baffling 'why' of it all. Celicia had not been there when they were talking about democracy and alliance with Liberator because it had all been lies. Tarek had not just expected Tarrant to warn Avon about the puppeteers, he'd wanted it to happen. Why, and why was it so important that they make Tarrant think that he'd outwitted them?

And in the back of his mind there was a permanent refrain of “is Avon all right?” And the others, of course. Celicia had said he need not worry about Avon, but had she lied?

He came up to a ridge against his right hand which turned out to be part of a hatch back into the main part of the ship. Vila stopped and listened but there was nothing but the hum of the engines. He thought that Celicia had both come and gone in the other direction, so with any luck there was nothing this way but Tarrant and one or two of the three guards.

Vila tried going further but a large metal object blocked the space in front. It was this door or back the way he'd come. This one was at least unlocked, if stiff from disuse. He listened for another minute then very slowly maneuvured the hatch a crack ajar.

Anti climatically there was panelling over this hatch as well but he managed to get it loose relatively quietly and peek out into the room. 

No one shot him. That was the first thing. The second was that the room was dimly lit and he could see the edge of furniture - no, not just any furniture. A metal bed. He must be inside the crew quarters, which might mean that he and Tarrant were on the same side of the guarded door, if he was lucky. He opened the hatch further. 

There was Tarrant on the other side of the room apparently trying to rewire the power somehow. He turned as Vila emerged and started towards him aggressively, grabbing a stick from the floor beside him. Vila had just enough time to think that maybe he'd got the whole thing wrong and Tarrant had been on the puppeteers' side all the time, when Tarrant dropped the weapon and strode rapidly towards him. 

He pulled Vila by his arms out into the room and leaned into his ear as he staggered to his feet. "Didn't recognise you for a moment under all that dirt. Is your way in a way out by any chance?" 

"It only leads back to the dining room," Vila whispered back, "and there's a guard on that door."

Tarrant took his hands away and wiped his oil stained fingers on the nearest bedding. "Doesn't sound as if it's worth getting filthy for. Talking of filth, there's a shower next door. Two birds with one stone. We can talk in there if we're quiet." 

The shower was a single cubicle unlike the communal one in the science lab. Vila looked down at the oil and dust all over his hospital gown and briefly imagined what his face must look like. Tarrant turned on the water then politely turned his back and Vila stripped down to his underwear and sidled into the hot water. There was cleanser, lots of it, and he was scrubbing his face and hair with some enthusiasm and his eyes closed when a voice in his ear said “We're making a habit of this.”

Tarrant had stripped down to the waist and the water was streaming through his flattening curls and over his chest.

“You didn't need to come into the shower as well!” Vila protested. He was sure Tarrant was doing it to try to disconcert him and it was working.

“Easier to talk that way.” the other man said cheerfully. "First things first. Have you figured out what's going on, because I haven't. "

"I know what they don't want me to tell you," Vila said. He explained his few deductions. 

Tarrant looked dismayed. "Damn. And here was me buying into the whole nonsense. Good job one of us was paying attention. So what are they really up to?" 

"I don't know," Vila said, "but your aunt told me that I could work it out. She also said that when I did I'd take their side against the rest of you. But I won't."

Tarrant looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Won't you? Haven't we been pretty awful to you?" 

"No!" Vila hadn't even thought about that as a reason for changing sides. "I mean not really. At least they've been much worse."

"They might have had good reasons for everything they did. We might just have been being Alpha arses."

"I don't mind that. At least I did, I suppose, but you're not really as bad as I thought."

Tarrant laughed." I'll take that," he said." In that case, how about...?"

"Oh, wait," Vila said abruptly. "I think I know what this is about."

"Now?" Tarrant complained. "Oh, all right then, you'd better tell me." 

"It's about you. You and Avon - well, you and everyone, really. You not being as bad as we thought. They set this up so you could prove it. So Liberator's crew won't fall apart fighting like we were going to." 

Tarrant stared at him. "But you all liked me." 

"We really didn't. We thought you'd either try to take over the ship, sod off somewhere leaving us in the lurch or get us all killed showing off." Vila said honestly. "At least I did, and I know Avon didn't trust you an inch. I can't believe you didn't notice how things was all going to hell?

“But this - this was all about making you actually stick your neck out for other people, even Deltas, showing you wouldn't sell out Avon when you got a chance, that you'd even ask about what had happened to me. Can't you see it?"

"Oh, I see it all right," Tarrant said. "And that's not the half of it, either."

He reached over to turn off the water. 

"Aunt Sissy," he called out. "I think we've had quite enough of this now." 

"But they don't know I'm in here," Vila protested quietly, looking round helplessly for a towel. 

"Of course they do." Tarrant said at normal volume. "It's their ship. Do you really think they haven't kept track of your every move?"

“So why...oh, never mind. If I've got to be talked at by your scary aunt again can I at least have some clothes on?”

By the time there was a polite knock on the door Vila had managed to find a jacket and some trousers that clearly belonged to someone considerably larger than him. As all three psycho-strategists came in he tightened the belt and tried not to feel as ridiculous as he imagined that he must look. Tarrant was still in his soaking wet leather trousers but he had shrugged the shirt loosely over his shoulders.

“So.” Tarrant demanded of Celicia, hands on his hips. “Is he interested or not?”

Vila blinked at him, bewildered. Who was 'he' and interested in what?

“Why don't you ask him?” Celicia said calmly. 

“No. I don't see any reason to potentially embarrass my crewmate about the matter when you were the ones who created this situation, along with all the rest of your meddling. So were you playing Cupid or just screwing with us?”

“There are far more important things at stake than your libido,” Cecilia told him sternly. “And no, he isn't interested. Not everyone is as fickle as you.”

“Oh,” Tarrant said, somewhat taken aback. He glanced at Vila slightly sheepishly “ Avon, I suppose. Oh well. In that case I want to complain about this whole bloody team building exercise which I very definitely did not sign up for.”

“Complain all you like, dear.” Celicia said. “We expected you to.”

“Have you any idea how annoying that is?” Tarrant demanded. “If you were hoping for a birthday message next year you can forget it.”

“I wasn't. But your mother might appreciate one. You've been a rather poor correspondent since you went AWOL,” she said. “Anyway, that's beside the point.”

Tarek turned to Vila, who had been rather hoping to stay out of the conversation entirely. “We regret the difficulties, but we expect the compensations will be more than adequate.”

“Compensations?” Vila said hopefully? “I get paid?”

“Intangible compensations,” Tarek clarified. “They should become apparent in time.”

“What happened to the others? The Deltas, I mean?”

“Out of hospital and nudged towards a community that will appreciate both their talents and their credits.”

“What about the drugs?”

Selanda took over. “Your friends were effectively fooling Teris. There was no evidence that his medications had any effect on intelligence or anything else. There can be no guarantee, of course, of no long term effects. We might monitor the situation.”

“Please don't.” Vila said. “Just leave them alone, as I guess they don't matter to you any more?”

“No,” Selanda said. Her flat gaze held Vila's. “You don't approve of us. That doesn't matter. Only the future matters.”

“What future?” Tarrant demanded. “Are you saying that Liberator is actually going to succeed? Beat the Federation?”

“You know better than to ask us questions like that, Del.” Celicia chided him. “What needed to be done now has been done. You don't have the data or the skills to interpret any of this so it would be best if you put the whole thing out of mind once you are reunited with your crew. For now I suggest that you concentrate on persuading Kerr Avon to turn round and pick you up again.”


	10. Transport

“Our would-be hijackers have just surrendered their weapons.” Avon on the comm screen looked considerably more tired than before. “Is there any reason why we shouldn't space them?”

“It depends on how your sense of humour's holding up,” Tarrant said. “The whole thing's been an elaborate hoax.”

“Hoax?” Avon's glare switched to Vila. “What have you done?”

“It wasn't me!” Vila protested. “My jokes are funny! And generally a lot less complicated.”

Tarrant was leaning on the back of his chair so that they could both appear in the comm screen. It wasn't quite close enough to be uncomfortable but Vila thought he might have felt rather differently about it a few days ago. He wondered if he'd ever find out if Tarrant had really been making a pass at him. It still struck him as preposterously unlikely. 

“The psycho-strategists have been screwing with us,” Tarrant said. “They claim they're done with us now.”

“But done what?” Avon demanded.

“I'll get our resident puppeteer expert to do the explaining,” Tarrant said. “Go on, Vila.” 

“Why don't you do it?” Vila said a little nervously.

“Because I'm still spitting mad about the whole thing,” Tarrant said pleasantly. “I suspect that if I tried to explain I would become quite incoherent with fury half way through which would be no help at all to Avon. You have a much more sanguine temperament. Besides, you were the one who figured it out. Half of it anyway.”

It was true that the more irate Tarrant had got the more Vila had come round to the opinion that all was well that ended well. It was rather nice to know that no one actually wanted to kidnap or kill him and that they could go home now. 

Avon, he suspected, might see things rather more as the still spitting Tarrant did. Some Alphas really didn't like being out Alpha-d and Liberator's crew had been held hostage by people with guns for a long time. 

“All right,” he said cautiously. “Basically Tarrant's aunt thought you thought Tarrant was trouble. “

“Tarrant's aunt?” Avon said. “You're babbling, Vila.” 

“She is his aunt.” Vila insisted.

“My Aunt Celicia's a psych strat,” Tarrant interjected. “I told you that ages ago. Just listen to him, Avon.” 

Avon's frown deepened but he fell silent. 

"So." Vila said, a little flustered, "she set all this up. So that Tarrant would behave well and we'd trust him and we'd all get on better."

"Not just me," Tarrant said. "It was intended to showcase the bravery, loyalty and many other talents of our very own cowardly little thief." His hand briefly patted Vila on the shoulder. 

Him? “That's not what happened...” he started. 

“Trust me on this,” Tarrant said to Avon. “That's exactly what happened. Find him a cause he would put his heart into and make it just dangerous enough for him to surprise us with what he's prepared to do. Feed him the info he needs to outthink me, which admittedly didn't turn out to be particular hard. Finally give him a choice between us and safety and watch him crawl halfway across the ship to pick the right side. Oh, and throw in a few opportunities for semi nudity just to make sure I'm really paying attention. What do they care about the ethics of it all? The end result is all that matters.” 

“What end result, exactly?” Avon's tone was low. 

Tarrant's voice was getting steadily harsher. “You think they'd tell us? We've had our training in playing together nicely and now we're being released back into the wild. Liberator's just another of their playing pieces. We don't even know if they're opposed to the Federation or part of it. “

“Or both?” Vila suggested. “I'm sure they can play at least two games at once.” 

“But which one are they trying to win? I presume they are listening in now?” Avon said. 

“Hell knows,” Tarrant said. “They say not, but that's got to be worth less than a spit in the wind.”

“Then we'll move to more mundane matters. How are you proposing to get back here? Because I can assure you that a Liberator rendezvous with your current vessel is completely out of the question.”

“I'm owed several missed birthday presents from my fond and wealthy aunt,” Tarrant said. “I rather fancy a really fast little interstellar racer. In green and purple, I think.”

“And you think you'll get one?” Avon asked.

“Given the fuss I could kick up with the family about all this? Aunt Sissy will think it a bargain.”

“What about the people on Liberator?” Vila asked. He was a bit worried that Avon might still be thinking about spacing them. It wasn't really their fault. 

“We'll leave them somewhere survivable, though probably not comfortable,” Avon said. “When you two are safely back we can let their masters know where to pick them up.”

 

The showroom was huge, marbled and nearly empty. Tarrant had taken the ship he was looking at out for a spin with the salesperson, and since it wasn't so much a ship as a very fast lifepod there hadn't been room for Vila. He'd been pleased about that to start off with, before he'd realised that he had to wait with Celicia. 

She had smiled in a friendly way at him and started to do complicated looking things on her personal tablet. Vila sat at a real wood table and leafed through the various ship specifications. They were on paper, one use, non moving printed paper, just to show how ridiculously expensive they were. The details didn't mean much to him but he did notice that the one Tarrant was trying out was the fastest, the smallest and nearly the most expensive. And blue.

Celicia's tablet beeped and Vila politely stood up, planning to move far enough away that he couldn't overhear, but she waved him imperiously back to his seat, mouthing “Sit down!”

-You got the specs then? What do you think?  
...  
-Utterly ridiculous, I know. But then what did you expect?  
...  
-He's already got a very big ship, if you remember. Always one for extremes.  
…  
-Oh, I think it will be this one. You should have seen his grin as he got in.  
…  
-No, not a word, I promise. The poor boy's convinced he's inveigled me into paying. I'll send the invoice straight across. 

She closed the tablet and smiled again at Vila, who was groaning inwardly. Not another layer of intrigue. He really didn't want to be the one to tell Tarrant that the psycho-strategists were at it again. That's if they let him say anything. 

“Don't worry so much, Vila,” she said calmly. “That was my sister.”

“Sister? You mean Tarrant's mother?”

“The same. I do wonder what sort of expense account Del thinks the Federation gives me. If I were paying for you to get back to your ship you'd be on a passenger liner. First class, of course, but nothing like this.” She waved a hand at the scattered leaflets. 

“Tarrant's parents are paying for the ship?”

“If you could manage to keep that information to yourself for forty eight hours, I would be grateful.”

Vila was so tired of secrets. “Why should I?”

“Because the day after tomorrow is his birthday and I suspect that this year Del will be missing his family more than usual. If I'm not here to carry his messages for him then he might even bring himself to call home to say thank you. He was brought up to be polite, you know, even if it's slipped a little. It would mean a lot to them. They miss their sons a great deal.” 

“Oh.” Vila said. “All right then.” A birthday surprise wasn't much like deceit at all. He did notice, however, that Celicia had had no difficulty whatsoever about lying to Tarrant in this circumstance.

 

Tarrant came in through the wide glass doors, talking rapidly to the salesperson. He turned to Celicia and Vila could see him trying to repress the happy grin.

“She will do. We'll take her. How long for the respray?”

“We can absolutely expedite that, Sir.” the woman said cheerfully. Vila wondered what her commission was. “We'll start it tonight, then it will only take two days for the full four coats to set.”

“No!” Vila and Celicia said together.

Tarrant looked bewildered. “But she's the wrong colour!”

“I want to go home,” Vila said firmly. “I don't care what colour it is.”

“And I want you both out of here,” Celicia said.

“And I want her resprayed green and purple.” Tarrant retorted. “Come on, two days is nothing.”

“Shall I ask Avon what he thinks?” Vila suggested. “If he and the others are OK hanging around waiting for your new ship's paint to dry, I guess it's all right.”

Tarrant gave him a look, “That's not nice, Vila All right, I suppose we'll take her as she is.”

.

“Why's it have to be so small?” Vila complained. He was wedged into an admittedly extremely comfortable deep seat; it would have been difficult to get out, but then there was nowhere to go. The seats, the life protection suits, the controls, the engines- that was pretty much it. “You could have got a bigger one.”

“Force equals mass times acceleration,” Tarrant said happily as he strode around his new toy. “Lots of force and very little mass means that we're very, very fast.”

“Liberator's fast and it's got proper sanitary facilities,” Vila pointed out. “Not a tube that goes places I really don't want to think about. How long are we going to be in this thing?”

“We've only got 20 hours oxygen, so no longer than that, I hope. Ah, here comes the stuff.”

Vila watched in dismay as a trolley full of foot long metal cylinders was pushed up to the tiny craft. “Where are those going?”

“On your lap, mainly. And a couple under your feet, and one along the side door.” Tarrant started to wedge the cylinders around Vila.

“Is this spare oxygen?”

Tarrant laughed at that. “Nope. Last one.” The pile in Vila's lap was nearly up to his eye level. They were heavy and his seat was no longer comfortable.

“OK, we're set.” Tarrant swung himself into the other seat and started to run through checks..

“What is this stuff? Is it dangerous? Will it explode?”

“Don't fuss, Vila.” The airlock opened and the ship started to move slowly towards the exit. “It's only paint.”


	11. Joyride

The atmosphere was different on Liberator now. Less argumentative, more disquieting. Tarrant and Avon were less often found snapping at each other but a couple of times Vila came across then talking quietly together in corners which was possibly worse. 

Storm Rising had been painstakingly repainted in glittering green and purple and now looked to Vila even more like a child's toy than before. He had questioned the name. "It sounds like a warship but it hasn't got so much as a child's plastigun." 

Instead of telling him to mind his own business, Tarrant had tilted his head to one side, contemplating the four foot high letters he had meticulously outlined along the length of the interstellar drive. "A storm's not a weapon. It's a force of nature. And I like the name." 

Vila had told him, at the appropriate time, where the funds for the ship had come from.  Tarrant had said very little about that either, but that evening Orac announced that it had successfully inserted an encoded message into the Federation top security communications system. Vila had already had a quiet word with the others; though Tarrant was clearly bristling in anticipation of unwelcome questions the conversation just moved swiftly, if slightly awkwardly, on. 

The calm didn't feel entirely natural to Vila and it wasn't with a great sense of surprise that he came towards the rec room a couple of weeks after the puppeteer incident and heard Tarrant's voice raised. 

"One thing! That's all I'm asking, Avon."

"Why should I?" Avon countered. 

"It's not like you're getting anything out of the current situation." Tarrant said. "You don't care, obviously."

It sounded more like a request than a proper argument. Vila paused out of sight, curious. 

"And are you so confident that you'll get what you want?"

"Not entirely," Tarrant said. "But I'd like the chance to give it a try. Come on, Avon, you could clear the landing pad for me at least. It costs you nothing, and I'll owe you a favour. A reasonably big one."

"Tempting," Avon's voice was a drawl. "But no."

"Why not, for fuck's sake?" Tarrant demanded. 

"Let's say that privation is good for the soul, and from here it looks as if your soul still needs a great deal of work. "

"Go to hell, then!" Tarrant stormed out of the door and Vila flattened himself against the wall to avoid being mown down. Tarrant swung round to confront him. 

"Were you listening?" 

"Listening to what?" Vila asked in his most innocent fashion. 

Tarrant cursed again and charged off down the corridor.

"Our pilot seems rather upset about something," Vila mentioned casually to Avon, who was nursing a coffee at the table. 

Avon looked at him, eyes narrowing. "And you wouldn't have any idea why?"

Vila shrugged. "Unless he's worked himself up about the puppeteers again, I haven't a clue. I thought that racer of his would keep him happy for months."

"There speaks a man who had never been able to have anything he wants." Avon said. "When you're raised as our rich kid pilot was, satisfying every passing whim becomes addictive, and the hit wears off faster each time."

"Wouldn't you have had everything you wanted, if your bank heist had worked?" Vila asked. 

"Of course." Avon said. "But I doubt if I'd have found it all that satisfying for long."

"Oh." Vila said. He was pretty sure that everything he wanted would definitely make him happy.  Even the unlikely things. Especially the unlikely things. "So what does Tarrant want now?" 

"I've no idea," Avon said. He drained the coffee and stood up. "Why don't you ask him?" He nodded farewell to Vila and walked out. 

It wasn't often that Vila caught Avon lying to him. It gave him a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't that he didn't lie himself - he did, obviously, and quite a lot, because there wasn't any other sensible way to live on a ship full of touchy Alphas who were ridiculously keen on sending him into dangerous situations without listening to reasonable objections.  But Avon didn't generally have any need to lie, and as far as Vila could tell he generally didn't. 

Maybe Avon was embarrassed about having refused Tarrant's minor favour.  Vila couldn't quite picture Avon ashamed of refusing anyone anything for the slightest of reasons, but it was at least an explanation and after long thought it was the best he'd come up with. Unfortunately it didn't get him any closer to figuring out what the request had actually been. 

It wasn't really any of his business - Tarrant's behaviour in the corridor had made that clear - but he'd been put through a lot so that the puppeteers could reconcile the two Alphas and he felt a certain proprietorial interest in maintaining the peace. 

Whatever the problem had been, it didn't seem to affect the flight deck too badly next day. The new state of semi-peaceable cooperation continued, meaning that both Tarrant and Avon could, with some careful prodding, be induced to seriously consider whatever the other one was proposing at least half the time. If Tarrant was rather more his old arrogant self and Avon's sarcasm tended to a little more bitter than recently, Vila thought the change would have barely been noticeable if he hadn't been paying particular attention. 

As most of them went off shift, Tarrant caught Vila up in the corridor. "Storm Rising's final coating is set at last. I can take her out for a proper joyride." 

"Oh good," Vila said. "Just as long as I don't have to come with you."

Tarrant looked taken aback." Why not? "

"How about because that thing's uncomfortable, dangerous and absolutely terrifying? " Vila retorted. "Space travel's scary enough in a proper ship, with walls and shielding and toilets. Having nothing but a thin piece of see-through plastic between me and instant terrible death for eight hours was one of the more horrible experiences of my life. And those canisters were really heavy. And you sang that pirate song six times even though I begged you to stop."

"But you still had fun." Tarrant said, confidently and completely inaccurately. "Look, we don't need to take anything with us this time. It will be really comfortable. You can just sit back and appreciate the ride. We don't have to go far."

It dawned on Vila with some horror that Tarrant was actually serious. "Why don't you ask Dayna? I know she'd love a ride in that deathtrap."

Tarrant shook his head. "Later. Look, we're going to be passing the Galatia system soon. How about if we take her down to Gal 5 for a few hours?" 

"You'll never persuade Avon to let us stop off there," Vila pointed out. "He doesn't like unnecessary diversions."

"If I do, though, will you come?"

Galatia 5 was known as the fortunate world. The story was that the rays of the sun carried a particular radiation that caused good luck, and a mass of casinos had opened up there as a result. Vila wasn't sure that he believed in luck rays and he didn't see why if they did exist they wouldn't help the casinos as much as the punters, but there were other ways apart from luck to separate a house from its chips and his fingers were already itching to hold cards.

"No more than a hour in that thing," he said. "And you're not to sing. But Avon won't let us go anyway."

"Shall we find out?" Tarrant took hold of his arm and tugged him back towards the flight deck, when Avon was now on solitary watch. He raised an eyebrow as they entered. 

"Vila and I are taking the Storm Rising over to Galatia 5," Tarrant said. 

Avon called up the star map. "That's a long way to go in something under ten metres long." 

"Less than three hours at her top speed," Tarrant said, raising a hand to quench Vila's protests.

"And what if you get into trouble?" 

"The Galatians are renowned for their warm hospitality, at least until you run out of credits and we don't plan to be there long enough to get cleaned out. If you stay on this course we can meet up again near Darn in 14 hours."

Avon nodded. "Don't miss the rendezvous. We might not wait. And Vila!" 

"Yes?" 

"There's a lot of temptation down there. Keep a sharp eye out for predators. All kinds." 

"Wasn't that odd?" Vila said as they walked towards the hold. 

"Odd how?"

"Well, he didn't even try to stop us going there."

"Why should he?" Tarrant said. "Storm Rising's not his. Nor are you." 

“No,” Vila said, slightly sadly, but all thoughts of Avon were driven away by the sight of the Storm Rising and the realisation that he now had to get inside.

“This might help.” 

Vila took the bottle from Tarrant's proffered hand and gave it a sniff. It definitely smelled as if it might help with all sorts of things. 

When they finally got there the Gal 5 casinos were all that Vila had hoped. It was fortunate, he thought, that Tarrant was a naturally poor gambler, and that the sun rays didn't seem to be making him any luckier. Vila could tell after an hour or so that the management were watching him closely but while Tarrant was cheerfully throwing away slightly more than he was winning they were both allowed to continue to play.

After a while a glamorously perfect assistant suggested that they might like some food. Vila would have preferred to carry on playing but Tarrant protested. “We've been here four hours, and the card spots are starting to move around in front of my eyes. I'm sure that's why I lost that last hand. We've got hours left, Vila. Let's have a break,”

The hotel room was huge and luxurious, and the food laid out on the side table was delicious. Vila sank into one of the plush sofas with a plate full of titbits. “This is nice. It's a shame we're not staying.”

“We could always come back for longer at some point,” Tarrant settled down next to him. “And we've got a while, anyway. Want to see how that big shower measures up to our previous efforts?”

For a moment Vila thought that Tarrant was suggesting that he needed to wash. Then an arm rested solidly across his shoulders and enlightenment dawned.

“Oh no!” he said, and then, thinking that was a bit rude, “I'm flattered, really. But I'm really not interested, honestly. I mean I might be if there wasn't someone but there is...”

“Avon.” The arm had withdrawn. “You do know that he isn't interested, don't you? He doesn't care.”

The words couldn't help but jar a memory that made Vila flinch with realisation. “Oh hell. That's what you were arguing about!”

“You were listening!” Tarrant accused him.

“I overheard a bit by accident,” he said. “But I didn't know what you were talking about.”

“Well, you know now.” Tarrant said. “And you'll note that he didn't exactly profess his devotion, so you might as well forget that.” And, a little softer. “I'm sorry. He should have made his position clear to you, and not just for my benefit.”

“He didn't really say anything,” Vila pointed out.”Except that he wouldn't stand aside for you.” He put down his plate. “I'm not that hungry after all. Let's go win some more chips.”

Tarrant sighed. “Gal 5's not living up to its reputation for luck. I seem to be on a permanent losing streak tonight. But I suppose I might as well watch you winning.”

.

“You knew that Tarrant was going to make a pass at me!”

“Are you telling me that you didn't?” Avon gestured at one of the chairs in his room and Vila plonked himself down. He had woken Avon, for which he didn't feel even slightly guilty.

“If I'd known I wouldn't have gone on a date with him! I had to turn him down. It was embarrassing.”

“I would have thought you might enjoy that,” Avon said. “Getting the upper hand after all the things he's done.”

“Tarrant's all right really, for an Alpha. And he didn't deserve that. And you did know, didn't you?”

“All right for an Alpha?” Avon laughed. “I wish I knew how the psycho strategists do it. Tarrant is not all right, not even for an Alpha. At least you had the sense to turn him down before you became the next Storm Rising. I hate to think what colour scheme he'd have come up with for you.”

“Tarrant has done his best to be nice,” Vila told him. “That makes one of you. You knew I wasn't interested and you let us both walk into that deliberately.”

“Did I know? After all, if you overlook his obvious faults, which you seem to insist on doing, he's quite dateable, particularly for a Delta from the slums.”

“That last comment was below you and I'm going to ignore it,” Vila said. “And you know perfectly well that it doesn't matter how eligible he is.” He sighed in frustration and some anger. “I wish you'd just bloody well do what he asked.”

“Ah, so you did hear that conversation?”

“Yes. Can't you just tell me you're not interested? I mean, I know, but can't you just say it out loud?”

“So you can reconsider your second best option? That would be doing you no favours. You and Tarrant are hilariously ill matched. The only reason that either of you are even considering the matter is that the psycho-strategists manipulated your sense of physical attraction in as part of their attempts to make Liberator accept him and him accept you.”

He stood up and the door opened. “Go to bed, Vila, get some sleep and forget about the whole thing.”

“But what about you?” Vila demanded.

“Oh, I intend to do exactly the same. Goodnight, Vila.”

And with the door open and waiting Vila felt that he had no choice but to get up and leave.


	12. Ulterior Motives

“Zen, cancel that last course.” Tarrant strode across the flight deck to take the pilot's space.

“”Hey!” Dayna looked affronted. “Who put you in charge?”

“Avon and I have reached a decision.” Tarrant nodded at Avon, entering less ostentatiously behind him. “We're not going to allow Liberator to be anyone's puppet. We're going to take her out of play.”

“If the psycho-strategists need us they can approach us to be allies,” Avon said. “But we won't be their pawns.”

“How can we be out of play when we don't know what it is they wanted us for?” Cally asked. “We can't stop doing everything.”

“We can pull back from our involvement with the Federation,” Avon said. “We can stop doing what's expected. A random course will do for a start and we'll see what we come across. That's all that we do half the time anyway. ”

“For how long?” Cally demanded. “If we're not even going to try to do anything worthwhile what is the point of being out here at all? We might as well find somewhere safe and live there in comfort for the rest of our lives.”

“That's not such a bad idea, “Vila suggested.

“Yes it is!” Cally insisted. “I didn't join Blake just to turn my back on the struggle now. What will the Feds be doing? What will Servalan be doing while we do nothing?”

“It won't be forever,” Tarrant said. “Just until we're sure the psych strats are off our backs.”

Vila suspected that the psycho-strategists probably thought a great deal longer term than Tarrant was used to doing but he didn't say anything. He'd had his life turned upside down for their obscure purposes. If this was Avon's plan to get rid of them he wasn't going to argue with it, particularly as doing nothing seemed a remarkably unrisky plan as Liberator schemes went.

"What about Blake?" Cally asked. "Are we going to stop looking for him?" 

"For the moment," Avon said reluctantly. "They've got to be expecting us to look." 

The argument continued for some time but as usual on the occasions when Tarrant and Avon were on the same side there was never really any doubt about the outcome. By the time Vila came off shift the ship was flying in a random direction with no particular destination in mind.

 

The next couple of days passed completely uneventfully as far as the outside world went. With Liberator on automatic the crew had copious amounts of free time. Avon was usually absent- he was apparently getting somewhere at last with installing the stolen AI system into Orac. Dayna was working on her weapons upgrades. It tended to be Cally and Tarrant who were at a loose end and in and out of the rec room, and Vila, of course, who avoided getting drawn into other people's projects like the plague. He was always quite happy doing nothing much for as long as he could get away with it.

It was on the evening of the second day that he wandered into the rec room with a mug of coffee. He'd been expecting to meet Cally for a game of cards but instead he found Tarrant pacing around it. 

“There you are! I was waiting for you. Come on, won't you reconsider? All this time on our hands; you and I could be having a great deal more fun than this.” He gestured in disdain at the packs of cards on the table.

Vila hadn't been expecting a frontal assault again. He'd almost convinced himself that the first one hadn't really happened. He could feel his cheeks reddening as he stood there.

“I can't.”

“Oh, believe me, you could if you wanted to,” Tarrant said. He was bright eyed and intense and Vila had spent longer than he should have wondering what sex with him would be like. He'd rather liked some of the places that his imagination had conjured up. 

“There's Avon.” he said.

“And where's that taking you?” Tarrant asked. “Do you think it matters to him what you do or don't do?” He came closer, looking down on Vila with clear frustration. “Look, I know how you feel about him. If Avon showed any interest I'd maybe even back off. But you can't tag forever after someone who doesn't want you. Just give me a chance.”

It was more tempting than he felt it should be. “Avon says that you're only hot on me because the puppeteers made you that way,” Vila blurted out.

“Did he?” Tarrant was still smiling but there was a touch of frost in his voice. “Kerr Avon being such an expert on matters of the heart, I suppose? Well he's wrong. I was interested in you before then.”

Had he been? Vila thought back but all he could remember was Tarrant calling him a coward and a rat. 

Tarrant must have seen his expression. “I was quite subtle about it, admittedly. He's just playing on your insecurities, you know. Why shouldn't I like you just because you're not his type?”

That was a bit of a tricky one. Vila knew why--it was all to do with long experience of what men like Tarrant wanted and how it wasn't ever men like him. But he couldn't think of how to put it in any way that the other man would accept. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "But Avon's usually right. I think I'd be better taking his advice."

"And that's a point. Since when has Avon gone round doling out good advice on relationships?" Tarrant said. "Why should he care what we do?" 

Before Vila could stumble his way through answering that one Cally turned up and Tarrant excused himself from the game. "Ulterior motives," he said to Vila as he left. " He's always got them - you know that. Until you know what they are you shouldn't trust a word of his. After all you know what mine are."

"I thought those two were supposed to be friends now?" Cally said, shuffling the deck. "It was Avon he was talking about, I presume."

"I think getting Tarrant and Avon to like each other would take actual magic. Tarrant's aunt is only a puppeteer." 

"This plan of theirs." She slapped the cards down with a lot more vehemence than necessary. "Blake would never have agreed to it, you know that. It's just running away. I didn't expect Tarrant to care about finding Blake. He's never met him. But I thought better of Avon, after everything."

"They don't think they have a choice." Vila wasnt quite sure why he was defending either of them. "And Blake knew about being used by other people. He wouldn't have wanted that for Liberator." 

"It feels like giving up to me. It feels wrong. How can doing nothing be better than trying to do the right thing? If we keep fighting the Federation it doesn't matter what the puppeteers want. We'll still fight them. We're not really on strings. We're free agents and they're just guessing."

She picked up her cards and looked acros at Vila. " Dayna agrees with me," she said pointedly. 

"I don't want to take sides!" Vila protested. 

"There are five of us. Sometimes you have to. Think about it, Vila. We're going to talk to the boys tomorrow."

 

The bedroom door closed behind Vila and he released a sigh. He really didn't like being the centre of everyone's attention. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? 

Even as he thought that he was aware that maybe he didn't want to be left completely alone. Tarrant wasn't Avon but that didn't mean that Vila was immune to his attractions. He was a lot friendlier than Avon, now. Maybe Vila should give it a try. 

Avon's motives - well, he rather hoped that he knew what Avon's motives were. Why else would the Alpha warn him off Tarrant? But that would mean that they both liked him. 

Vila looked in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. He didn't look much to himself, but he couldn't deny that it was an outside possibility with Avon and an apparent certainty with Tarrant. 

Nothing for it. He was going to talk to Avon again. And if the man couldn't, or wouldn't, give him something to pin his hopes on, well, Tarrant's door was just a few yards up the corridor.

Vila changed his clothes with a little more than usual care. He couldn't quite believe that he was planning to do this - either bit of it - but at least one Alpha had made his interest in him clear and he was tired of being always the clown and always lonely.

He made his way quietly up to the corridor where both men had their quarters. Off shift the lights were low and there were no voices or footsteps except his own.

To his surprise Avon's door was open, a little extra light spilling onto the opposite wall. Vila paused, gathering his nerve, then walked into the doorway.  "Um. Hello," he said, more hesitantly than he had hoped, and stopped. It was long seconds before he managed to turn on his heel and walk away, back towards the main part of the ship.

"Vila!" 

He ignored the shout and kept going. 

"Vila!" That call was deeper and more authoritative and disregarding it was harder. He didn't turn round but he slowed, listening to the rapid footsteps behind him with lead in his heart. 

"It's none of my business," he said aloud. "I won't say anything to the others."


	13. Double Act

A moment ago the hand now warm on Vila's shoulder had been shoved down between Avon's black silk clad thighs. Somehow Vila managed not to flinch. 

"I'm really quite OK if we don't talk about this, you know," he suggested. 

"I think we should," Avon said, walking past and turning to face the two of them. "Which of us were you coming to see, Vila? All dressed up in the middle of the night as you are?"

Avon had been kissing Tarrant, open mouthed, hand clenched in the younger man's curls as he pushed him against the wall. There had been nothing fleeting or hesitant about it. Vila wondered why they'd bothered breaking off to harass him when they'd been quite clearly most of the way to fucking already. 

"I don't think that really matters now," he said.

They were both facing him now, standing shoulder to shoulder, for all the world as if it was they who had caught him out in indiscretion. Avon was dressed for bed, appropriately enough. Tarrant was still in the flamboyant shirt and trousers he'd been strutting around in earlier - maybe he'd woken the other man while Vila was playing cards. Or maybe they did this every night. Neither of them had ever told him that they weren't screwing each other's brains out regularly. He'd just assumed. Stupid of him to assume anything. 

"But we'd like to know," Tarrant said. He sounded more amused than embarrassed. Vila recalled his protestations of devotion a few hours before and came very close to losing his temper 

"You mean you want to know whose lies were more convincing?" 

"I didn't lie to you," Avon's tone also held a hint of humour.  

"No." Vila agreed. They were both so fucking shameless about this.  "I guess you really did want to stop us hooking up. I can't imagine why I was dumb enough to think that was anything to do with me, though. As you said, he's far more eligible." 

"Did you really say that?" Tarrant asked Avon. "And here was I thinking you hadn't noticed."

"I notice a great number of things,"  Avon said. "Most of them aren't to your advantage, Tarrant. Your superficial charms are far from compelling." 

"The way you were behaving a few minutes ago suggests otherwise." Tarrant seemed entirely relaxed about the way this conversation was going. Vila just wanted to get away from the pair of them. 

"I'm going back to bed," he said. 

"We've got a much better idea. Come to bed with us,"  Tarrant said.

"Ha ha. Very funny. So now you've had your entertainment, why don't you two go back to fucking each other and laughing at how stupid I am and let me get some sleep."  By which he meant let him get back to the bottle hidden in his room for emergencies. If he'd ever had a real need for strong drink it was now. 

"Tarrant is, as usual, being so offhand that he's making a mess of this,"  Avon said. 

"Me? I'm not the offhand one!" Tarrant protested. "I told him I fancied him. I made quite a nuisance of myself about it.  All you did was run me down. I bet he still doesn't know how hot you are for him. You don't, do you, Vila?" 

"Whatever game you think this is, I resign." Vila said. "You'll have to go back to playing two handed." Since they were blocking the way in front of him he turned to go the long way round. It was half an hour of walking through empty corridors but anything was better than this. They did at least let him go. 

It was a dismal walk. There was far too much time to think about the foolishness of getting involved with any Alphas, let alone two of them. He'd thought they were all right, he really had. He should have known that OK for an Alpha was still bad news for the sanity of any Deltas in the vicinity.  Gods, he wanted a drink.

He was utterly weary when he came along the last set of corridors and turned the corner towards the entrance to his room, thinking about nothing but the small comfort that hard liquor might bring. The sight of the two figures leaning against the wall outside his door made him want to just sit down and cry. 

Instead his feet kept dragging forwards. "Oh, just fuck off, both of you!" He was too tired and frustrated to say anything clever. 

Tarrant moved aside so that he could open the door. The pilot no longer looked so pleased with himself. "Look, Vila. Avon and I have screwed this up between us. Give us five minutes to explain." 

"I've had quite enough of the hilarious double act, thank you." 

"Five minutes each, " Avon clarified. "Tarrant can wait out here for now."

Avon's face was unreadable as ever but Vila thought that Tarrant might be looking genuinely contrite.  He supposed that if he gave them a chance to apologise for harassing him in the corridor then tomorrow they could all pretend the whole episode had never happened.  He wouldn't forget, of course, but it might make the practicalities of living alongside the two of them a bit less unbearable. 

"Three minutes,"  he said and walked past them into his room, leaving the door open behind him. He heard it slide shut but he didn't turn round, being entirely concerned with retrieving the unopened bottle of spirits and a single glass. 

"If I'm going to do this I would at least appreciate your full attention." Avon's voice was as dry as it got. 

Vila put the glass on the table by his bed and carefully filled it to the brim.  Then he drank it down. When he'd finished spluttering he sat on the bed and reluctantly looked over at Avon who was still standing by the door. "Go on then." 

Avon took a visible breath. "I have no adequate excuse for kissing Tarrant," he said, slightly stiffly. 

Whatever Vila might have expected it wasn't that. "You don't need an excuse," he said, trying not to let the hurt show through. "You're both single, unless that's another thing you've been lying about."

"True," Avon said. "But it has complicated matters. What would you have said to me tonight if you'd found me alone?"

"I'm not the one who apparently needs to get something off my chest," Vila said, pouring himself a second glass. The first had given him a little stubborn courage, even against Avon. "And your three minutes is ticking down." 

Avon gave him an exasperated look. "Very well. If I must. I had no intention of letting either you or Tarrant get the impression that I was in any sort of competition for your attentions. I did however think that once I'd prodded you into sending him packing I would be in a position to make a move." 

"You were going to move on Tarrant?" Vila was somewhat confused. 

"No," Avon said. "Do try to keep up."

"It's very late," Vila pointed out. "You're both being remarkably confusing and I'm pretty sure that if I had any sense I shouldn't give a fuck about any of this any more. Now you're claiming that you were interested in me?" 

"I'm not claiming anything," Avon said. "I'm giving you the facts, since you seem incapable of working them out for yourself."

"So, pretending for the moment that for some reason I might care, where does kissing Tarrant come into these facts?" Vila drank about half of the second glass. He didn't want to actually pass out, not until he'd got rid of his visitors, but the woozy curtain coming down between his thoughts and his feelings was definitely helping. 

Avon sighed. "I told you, that should not have come into them at all. He turned up at my room to object in the strongest terms to my methodology. I'm rather surprised that he didn't wake everyone else up in the process but Liberator's walls appear to be remarkably soundproof. We had what might be considered to be a full and frank exchange of views on the subject of courtship, including a demonstration. A mistake, that's all."

Vila supposed that Tarrant's hand could had mistakenly slipped between Avon's legs while the other man was mistakenly sticking his tongue down his throat.  Oddly that sort of mistake never seemed to happen to him. And he wasn't going to let himself think about what either sensation might had felt like because it was quite clear that it wasn't going to ever happen to him. 

He took another sip of the liquor. "So what are you doing here instead of accidentally groping each other some more? Or did you find a wall on the way over to finish off on?" 

There was a pause, during which Vila placed a small bet with himself that Avon would stalk out.  Rather to his surprise he lost. 

"Because," Avon said instead, a little tightly, "you were clearly under the impression that both of us had been trifling with your feelings for our amusement. Now that impression had been corrected we can discuss what should happen next." 

"Wait, I know that one! Your three minutes is up....." he checked the timepiece, "just... about.. now. On the way out you can tell your accidental boyfriend that his time is running." 

Now that was a proper stalk, he thought as Avon slammed the door button.  He had no idea what to make of anything Avon had told him but he had the rest of his drink and in three more minutes he was going to be left alone.  And Tarrant was always easier than Avon. Anyone was easier than Avon. 

If he hadn't known that such a thing was impossible he would have said that Del Tarrant almost looked nervous. 

"What did he tell you?" 

"Ask him. You're the ones who want to chatter." Vila countered.  "I'm just having a quiet drink before bed." 

"Well, he must have told you about our agreement. What did you think?" 

What agreement? "Just say what you want and go away," Vila suggested. "You've got two and a half minutes left." 

"All right. I'm sure it will work. God knows he's hot enough once you get past that iridium surface. And you and I, well, we're pretty easy going but we both know what we want. Why shouldn't it work out?  Can I have a glass of whatever that is?" 

That was a question Vila could answer. "No. It's mine." He finished the glass and reached again for the bottle. "And I don't want anything. Not from him or you." 

"You will though," Tarrant said confidently. "You do like both of us."

"Don't like both of you at all.". The bottle was not entirely cooperating any more but he managed to refill the glass without spilling too much. 

"Come on, I mean there was the misunderstanding about the kissing but Avon must have explained that."

"Wasn't much of a 'planation." Vila had started to stumble over his words. "Wha' were you doing?" 

"Experimenting," Tarrant said with a grin. "After all there was no point in agreeing all this if there wasn't some chemistry. Fortunately there was plenty.  It will be better with all three of us though." 

Vila pushed himself in a distinctly wobbly manner to his feet and suddenly found that it was rather harder to think straight at all. He waved a hand in the general direction of Tarrant to indicate that he should stay there and made his way outside, where Avon was studying a hand console.  

"T'rrant says you're up for a threesome, " he said bluntly. Avon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

"Why'd he say tha'?" Vila ploughed on." 

Avon glanced at the door then back to Vila. "It was a possible solution to what was shaping up to be a serious conflict of interests."

Vila stared at him through now rather blurry vision. "Bet 's not his idea. 's got your brain all over it."

"It was only relevant if you'd agreed, of course." Avon said. "And that was never going to happen. I think you ought to sit down before you fall over. "

But Avon had let Tarrant be the one to tell Vila- "You bastard!" Vila said. "You se' him up." He was leaning against the corridor wall but it didn't seem to be entirely vertical any more. 

Avon's smile was quick and cold.  "If Tarrant's fool enough to try to talk you into three-way sex you're better off with me anyway."

Vila thought about that as best he could through the fog. "Might've said yes."

"You're far too conventional at heart for that."

For some reason that annoyed Vila more than anything else. He drew himself up as well as he could given that he was not entirely sure what direction up was. "I can be unco.. Uncon... That thing.  So there! As' me!" 

Avon shook his head. "I doubt that you even know what you're saying at this point." He put a hand on Vila's shoulder to steer him back through the doorway and Vila's legs gave way from under him.  "Hell. Tell me he hasn't drunk that whole bottle?" 

"I had the last half glass while listening to the details of your perfidy but the rest was him," Tarrant said, kneeling down to drag an unresponsive arm across his shoulder. "I'd assumed it was already half empty." 

"It wasn't," Avon said. Between then they hauled Vila upright enough to drag him into the room. "Get him on the bed. I'll get Zen to monitor his vital signs overnight."

"What about the med unit?" Tarrant was frowning down at him. 

"You want him suddenly sobered up and fully articulate right now? Do you think you'll like what he has to say?" 

"Good point," Tarrant conceded. "Hopefully a night's sleep might make him better tempered." 

Vila had stopped paying attention some time ago. By the time the room lights went down and the door closed a short time later he was fast asleep in his bed, still clothed and snoring.


	14. Not Expendable

“Message for Vila Restal”

Silence

“Message for Vila Restal”

Silence

“Message for Vila Restal”

Why was Zen torturing him with his own name? How unfair was that? He clamped his hands over his ears but it didn't help much. Every syllable went straight through his aching head.

“Message for Vila Restal”

“What?” he croaked without opening his eyes. 

“Urgent message relayed from Del Tarrant. Take the drink on your bedside table and get to the flight deck. We have a situation here.”

There wasn't a hope in hell of Vila going anywhere, not with his head throbbing and his stomach churning between pain and nausea. He was ill, very ill. But his throat was simultaneously raw and full of cotton wool and a drink might help. He reached out blindly, trying to move as little as possible and his fingers encountered the squeeze bulb. 

The contents were not entirely nice, being bitter, but it was liquid so he drank it. He then lay still for a few minutes wishing that his churning stomach would settle enough for him to go back to sleep. Then he lay still for a couple more minutes feeling rather better and possibly even enough recovered to be able to fall asleep again. 

“Message relayed from Kerr Avon. Get up here now. You're needed.”

Needed? That seemed unlikely. What was likely was that they would continue to pester him until he turned up, so he reluctantly conceded that he would get no more sleep. He opened his eyes, rolled out of bed, discovering to his pleasure that the hangover really had gone and went searching for clothes that didn't smell of booze.

“Oh, that's not a pretty sight,” he said as soon as the flight deck screen came into view. “How did they find us?”

“There's a sub-graviton beacon built into Storm Rising's interstellar engine,” Tarrant said from the pilot's console. Rather blurry recollections of their conversations of the previous night had Vila on the point of blushing when Tarrant looked at him but luckily no one except him seemed to be thinking about that right now. 

“Oh. Why didn't you mention it before?" he asked

“Because I didn't know, obviously.” Tarrant did not sound at all pleased about the situation. 

Vila looked past the familiar bulbous shape of the psycho-strategists' ship to the smaller shapes beyond. “Those look worryingly like pursuit ships.”

“Four of them,” Avon confirmed. “They're targeting our engines and weapons systems. If we start to power up either they say they'll take them out.” 

Vila felt an odd sense of relief. This sort of emergency was at least familiar and it meant that no one would be trying to get him alone to talk to him. They were all looking at him though, which was disconcerting and a bit unfair. Pursuit ships couldn't be his fault. 

“They want you to teleport over there,” Cally said.

“Me? Why would they want me?”

“Maybe they think you're the most expendable,” Dayna suggested.

“None of us are expendable,” Tarrant said, “You don't have to go, obviously.”

“No,” Avon agreed, “You can stay here and get shot at with the rest of us if you prefer. Unless you think that they will just let us go if we refuse to co-operate?”

Vila didn't like the puppeteers but he didn't think that they were going to shoot him out of hand. They'd had plenty of opportunities for that already. 

“I'll go, I suppose,” he said. “If I can have some breakfast first.”

Rather to his disappointment there seemed to be a general consensus that he wasn't allowed to have a proper sit-down breakfast while Liberator was a button push away from being torn apart by plasma bolts. Dayna did redeem herself a little for the expendable comment by running down to the galley for a pocketful of protein bars. 

"Co-ordinates received," Tarrant said into the com. "He's coming over shortly. And if we don't get him back in one piece you'd better tell your attack dogs to forget about just crippling our engines. They'll have to blow us out of the sky instead because otherwise we will be coming for you."

"How dramatic," Selanda's voice sounded unconcerned. 

"Tarrant's essentially accurate this time, " Avon added. "You've already forfeited all right to be considered our allies. You would be wise to take care to avoid becoming our enemies. Vila's safety is not negotiable."

That was nice, Vila supposed, though he knew as well as the others must that while Liberator was pinned down by the pursuit ships it was helpless. Still he appreciated the thought. 

It was Avon who walked rapidly down the corridor with him towards the teleport room, regaling him with unhelpful instructions. "Don't barter anything away. Talk about the crew as much as you like - they'll have our personal information already and much good it may do them, but technical details are another matter" 

"You should send someone else," Vila had to scurry faster than was comfortable to keep up. "You know that if they torture me even a tiny bit I'll tell them everything I know. I'm really not good at this." 

Avon snorted. "Everything you know about how Liberator works? I think we can risk it. Besides, no one's going to torture you. These psycho-strategists consider themselves far too superior and sophisticated for anything so crude." 

"I really don't want to go." 

"And yet you're going," Avon said. "Curious. A couple of weeks ago we'd have had to drag you out of a cupboard somewhere and bully you into it." 

"You'd have done it too," Vila said, rather bitterly. 

"Yes, I would," Avon stopped abruptly to face him at the entrance to the teleport room. "Because willing or not, no one else in this ship can do what you can do. You watch and you think and you've already shown that you're much less likely to be misled by puppeteer smoke and mirrors than any of the rest of us. If anyone can get the insights we need to get those bastards off our back for good, you can."

Vila couldn't remember all that much of what either man had said last night. Enough to be fairly sure that they had both propositioned him, in their differing manners, and just the thought of that made him feel hot and flustered in a mostly good way. But even drunk nearly to the point of incoherence he had recognised the feel of a competitive game underway and he'd not been a player but a victory condition.

This was different. This mattered. He'd always been just a semi - sentient lock opener to Kerr Avon and he was pretty sure that having sex wouldn't have changed that nearly as much as he'd have liked, yet somehow whatever the puppeteers had done had made a difference.

"I'll try,” That had come out with a little more emphasis than he'd intended. To cover his blush he walked across and reached out for a bracelet. 

"Do that." Avon slid behind the teleport console. "Though I hardly need to tell you of all people not to take any unnecessary risks in the process. Ready to teleport?" 

A shiver of fear ran through him. Avon having confidence in him was all very well but he hated going into danger in his own. He hated going into danger at all, for that matter. "Actually there's a couple of things I've just remembered that I ought to do first."

Avon shook his head slightly. "Too late for cold feet now. Try to come back with something useful, but make sure you do come back." And Liberator dissolved away. 

 

 

"You can bring me back now," Vila closed his eyes briefly, praying that nothing would go wrong now. He just wanted to get home. 

There was the teleport room appearing. Wonderful teleport room. And Avon at the controls - wonderful Avon, coming forward from the teleport device to give him a completely unexpected and unnecessary hand down from the pad. 

"Are you all right?" 

"I think so," Vila said, letting go of the hand with a little reluctance 

"Avon to flight deck. He's back. He's unharmed."

"They're powering up," Tarrant's voice came back. "Get back here!"

By the time they'd run as far at the flight deck it was clear that the other ships were heading away from them. 

"Zen, plot pursuit course," Tarrant snarled. He looked even more annoyed than he had a couple of hours earlier and Vila wondered what had gone on while he'd been in the puppeteer ship. "Fools. They can't outrun us."

"They still outgun us though," Avon said. "What are you going to do when we catch up? Shout at them? Quick, Vila. Do we need to chase them or not?" 

Vila’s eyes flickered between the two men. "They do claim they're going to leave us alone from now on. Let’s take them at their word." 

"But are they allies or enemies?" Cally asked. "Did you at least find out that much?"

Vila didn't think it was that simple. "They said that if things go wrong for Liberator right now it's bad for everyone in the future."

"It doesn't take a puppeteer to know that," Cally said. "We're the greatest asset the Revolution has. Blake always said that. So what are they going to do to help us?" 

"They say they've done it," Vila said, uncomfortably. 

"By talking to you?" Avon was frowning now. 

"Kind of," Vila said. He mentally braced himself for what was going to happen next. 

"So what did they say?" Avon's voice was commanding. 

"I don't think I should tell you, not now. I need to think about it." He spoke to Avon's darkening expression. "They said I should use my judgement. I can't think about anything here with you lot looking at me like that."

"Your judgement?" Avon was glaring at him. "It didn't take much to give you a over-inflated sense of your own importance, did it? They're playing on your vanity to keep information from those of us with the capacity to understand it. Just tell us what they said." 

"He might be right to keep quiet." Tarrant said. "Knowing too much about the future isn't always healthy." 

"He's not right. Don't encourage him." Avon snapped back. "You may all be happy with the idea of an agent on this ship operating on secret instructions from the same people who've been screwing around with us for weeks, but I'm not, and I won't tolerate it."

"I'm not an agent! And they didn't tell me to do anything!" This wasn't fair. He hadn't wanted to be the one to be talked at by the damn puppeteers. 

"So what did they say?"

Stalling wasn't working. Vila looked around at the others who weren't showing any signs of helping him out, then back to Avon's scowl. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this but he knew that he couldn't hold out against Avon's anger for long. "How about I tell you in private? And then you can tell the others if you want to."

Avon nodded brusquely and strode towards the nearest empty room. Vila managed an apologetic shrug at Cally and the others as he followed. 

"So?" Avon said as soon as the door closed. 

"They said that their forecasts show that if you take charge of the Liberator you'll lose her to the Federation very soon." 

It took Avon's face a moment to change. His laugh didn’t sound particularly amused. “So they want Tarrant in charge? Much more convenient for them. And you bought this propaganda? I thought you were smarter than that." 

"You don't understand! They said putting Tarrant in charge will be no better! Either way we all die, Avon. You me, all of us."

Avon was no longer smiling. His eyes were boring into Vila's. "So what did they tell you to do?"

"I told you, nothing! They told me their predictions, they said to be careful who I talked to about them and they sent me back here. They said they were done with Liberator now. I haven't had a chance to think about any of it yet. I don't know what they expect me to do."

Avon was pacing now. "Were you planning to tell Tarrant about his cheerful little forecast?"

"I can't tell you and not him." Vila pointed out. 

"No. You do have this obsession with being even handed between us. Maybe that's why they threw this little dilemma in your particularly inapposite lap. Did it occur to you that they might have made it all up, by the way?" 

_"His rejection of allies, his insistence on going it alone and his obsession with Blake will lead to the capture of the Liberator. And after your deaths the Federation will use your ship to crush any remaining resistance."_. Selinda had sounded almost pleased about the prospect. Vila had known that it wasn't really safe to like any of the psycho-strategists, but least with Selinda it was easy to remember that she wasn't on his side. 

"I don't think so," he said cautiously, hoping that Avon wouldn't demand details.

"That means that you're sure they were right but you're trying to be polite." Avon said. "And this disaster is nothing I can avoid with advance warning? "

"They said not. It's not that sort of thing." It was Avon's nature, not any single decision; they had been clear about that. 

"You're trying to be tactful again, very badly. They blame my basic character flaws then?" 

"I don't think they care what your character's like," Vila said, truthfully. "Just what's going to happen."

"At least I approve of their perspective on that," Avon said. "So, now I tell you that the science of psycho-strategy is heavily overrated, that you have no guarantee that they weren't selling you a string of lies, that clearly I am the only person in this ship competent to take charge and that I intend to do so."

"That's what I expected you to say," Vila said. "Honestly, that's fine."

"Honestly it isn't." Avon said. "You had better have your talk with Tarrant. I'll be fascinated to see what he had to say about the situation." 

 

"Nope." Tarrant said. "I'm not interested."

He had insisted on leading Vila all the way back to his quarters rather than using one of the empty rooms and Vila was now in one of the armchairs in Blake’s old sitting room while Tarrant prowled restlessly around the room.

"But it's about you," Vila protested. 

"Exactly. If the puppeteers are making predictions about my future or lack of it I really don't want to know. What if they say I'm going to be dead next week? Knowing the future takes all the fun out of life. Just tell me the one thing I need to do to avoid this particular catastrophe. I don't need to know anything else."

"You won't like it," Vila warned

"My aunt bugged my birthday present. I'm pretty much expecting not to like any of this any longer." 

"All right." Vila said. "You can't be in charge of Liberator." 

Tarrant's eyes widened and he scowled. "They'd rather have Avon? My own family, too? So much for the gentle art of nepotism." 

"They say Avon mustn't be in charge either," Vila said hurriedly.

"Oh?" Tarrant stared at him for a moment, his face gradually losing its anger as he thought. "Now that's interesting. What about the rest of you?" 

"They didn't say about anything else. Just about you and Avon."

"And what did Kerr Avon say about this abrupt curtailment of his ambition?" 

"He said I should talk to you."

"Did he? Right. Anything else it's vital for me to know?"

"I don't think so."

“Then we’d better talk back to Avon.” Tarrant stretched out a hand to stop Vila getting up. “No hurry though, since I’ve got you to myself for a bit” 

He walked over to a shelf and recovered an amber bottle and a couple of glasses. “Shall we have a glass of something while we talk?”

Vila's first thought was that he'd been caught out again, and his second was that he didn't feel nearly as upset about it as he probably ought to be. Obviously he was going to have to talk to Tarrant about last night at some point. Why not now, in the comfort of the sitting room and with a moderately sized glass of something that looked rich and interesting being gently pushed into his hand? 

"Go on then," he said. "What are you going to say?" 

"First, that I'm sorry if we annoyed you about the threesome stuff. It was a genuine attempt to work things out, on my part at least. I should have known that Avon would cheat."

"I wouldn't say he cheated, exactly. More outmanoeuvred you." Vila said, taking a long sip of the ale. 

"No? Well, you're biased, being as you are in love with him. "

"I'm not!" Vila protested. "I'm just... a bit attracted." He wouldn't dare impose upon the man to the extent of falling in love. Avon would never forgive him. 

"That's all right then," Tarrant said. "You're at least a bit attracted to me. That puts us level. I was a bit worried that I might be too far behind to catch up."

Tempting as it was to argue for the sake of it, Vila had to admit that was probably a pretty accurate summary of his feelings towards Tarrant. " This is all very confusing," he complained." I don't understand why either of you would be bothered with me at all."

"How about you let me kiss you? I generally find that clarifies things one way or another." Tarrant suggested. "if you don't like it we'll just finish the drinks and go find Avon." 

He might not like it, Vila told himself. It was probably worth testing. After all it would be silly to stay all hung up on Tarrant if he wasn't really attracted to him. Just a quick check, that was all. 

The loud cracking noise had him coming up for air, startled. "What was that?" 

"I think we broke the chair," Tarrant looked flushed and happy. "Bed's next door?" 

Vila could tell that the arm had become half detached. There really wasn't room for both of them on the chair. They couldn't go around wrecking Blake's furniture. What if he came back? "Bed," he agreed, a little breathlessly. 

 

Tarrant stretched with a small noise of satisfaction, wrapping a warm arm around the half-asleep Vila. "Good as this is, we ought probably to get round to that conversation with Avon at some point today."

"Avon!" Vila said, sitting upright. "Oh shit.”

"If you want him, have him," Tarrant said. "I'm not going to get in his way. After all, you've seen what I've got to offer. It's only fair to let him make his play."

Never mind anything else, Vila had left him waiting. Avon was going to be so unimpressed. Vila scrabbled out of bed and pulled on his clothes, Tarrant following suit in a rather less frantic and more effective manner.

“Well, this should be fun." Tarrant said as they went for the door. 

Vila was fairly sure that it wasn't going to be fun at all.


	15. Choices

Vila and Tarrant found Avon back on the flight deck, frowning down at his console. As soon as he caught sight of them he snapped "Take over!" to Cally and came striding down past them towards the bare room he and Vila had used to talk in before. 

"That was over an hour! How much did you find to tell him?" he demanded of Vila as the door closed behind Tarrant. 

Vila's attempt to avoid being specific got cut off with a snort. "Never mind. I can see what sort of discussion you had. I suppose we should be grateful that the survival of the Liberator came at least somewhere in your list of priorities."

"We multi-tasked," Tarrant said. "It's not like you didn't have the chance to do the same." His hand was resting on Vila's shoulder, discomforting and warming in about equal measure. 

"So this is your choice then," Avon said to Vila. 

"I don't know. I mean, what if it isn't my choice? I don't know if I still have choices?" 

"He wants you," Tarrant said to Avon, "but he thinks maybe you'll be too snooty to consider it now. Second hand goods and all that."

"So why did he sleep with you then?" 

"Oh, I can be quite irresistible," Tarrant said. 

"He kissed me." Vila said to Avon's look. "You know what that's like."

Avon sighed. "Never mind. Can we please get back to our imminent destruction? I presume you did find a few minutes to tell Tarrant what you told me?" 

"First things first." Tarrant said. "I don't want to know any details of the psycho-strategists' predictions and I will take it extremely amiss if you insist on telling me."

"Caution or cowardice?" Avon enquired. 

"Call it what you like. Vila says that neither of us should have charge of Liberator. I'm prepared to go along with that if you are."

"Which appears to be precisely what the puppeteers want." Avon said. "Are we letting them make our decisions now?"

"Would you prefer to ignore the warnings? They convinced Vila."

"I'm well aware of that." Avon was frowning at Vila now. "If this is a genuine warning in good faith, why not deliver it weeks ago instead of playing unpleasant games with us?" 

Vila opened his mouth, thought better of it and closed it again. Unfortunately they were both staring at him now. 

"Out with it," Avon said. 

"Well, weeks ago you wouldn't have listened to any of us."

"Ah yes. Your hypothesis that this was all about bonding," Avon said dryly. "Well, you two have certainly done your utmost to bond." 

"It does make sense," Vila said quietly. 

"Of course it makes sense," Tarrant said. "Avon just doesn't like the idea that his judgements about his fellow crew members are based on anything but cold logic. We've all been successfully manipulated, Avon. Accept it and move on."

"And that thought doesn't bother you at all?" Avon demanded

Tarrant shrugged. "I've found out that there's more to Vila than meets the eye. There's a bit more to you too, I suppose. I'd rather know that   
than not know it. If I thought they were just pulling the wool over my eyes, that would be a different matter. Call me naive if you like but I think these predictions are genuine and their purpose is to stop us making a terrible mistake.

"You are undoubtedly naive," Avon said. "Even supposing that you were right, what solution could you propose?" 

"Cally," Tarrant said confidently. "She's more than qualified to take charge." 

"She flatly refuses," Avon said. "I discussed the matter with her while Vila was, among other things, enlightening you about your unfitness to command. She says that you won't take her orders." 

"Of course I would!" 

"Right up until the point at which you think she's wrong," Avon said. "Then you wouldn't concede her any authority at all, and neither would I." 

"I don't want to be in charge either," Vila said. "In case you were thinking of asking me."

"We weren't." Avon said. "The only sensible option, if you really believe the puppeteers, is to find Blake."

"How, exactly?" Tarrant demanded. "We're all out of leads and he's most likely dead anyway. It's not exactly a good plan, is it?" 

"It's the only plausible one. That makes it the best available." 

Vila watched the two men arguing about the impracticality of finding Blake for a while. They were clearly both frustrated but he was interested to note that they weren't actually swearing at each other. Maybe they really could work together, if the problem of who was in charge could be solved. 

"There are five of us," he said quietly into a break in the dispute. 

"So? Dayna's certainly not suitable and we've ruled everyone else out." Tarrant said, somewhat impatiently. 

"Why couldn't we do it between us?" Vila said. 

Tarrant looked horrified. "You can't run a warship by committee!"

"I imagine Vila is not suggesting that we set up a discussion group for combat decisions, " Avon said. "But strategy-- what we do where we go, who we get involved with? Is that so different from what we've done since Blake got himself lost?" 

"I suppose not," Tarrant was thoughtful now. 

"It will have to do until we find Blake." Avon stood up. "We'll tell the others," and they walked out together without so much as glancing back at Vila. 

'Tell the others? Not ask?' he murmured to himself. He had an uncomfortable feeling that they'd somehow missed the whole point of the psycho-strategists' predictions. 

He'd done his bit. He'd carried the message faithfully, even through the many distractions. He'd made his one suggestion. It wasn't his job to try to get the others to listen to his further vague misgivings. They wouldn't listen anyway; they never did. They were the Alphas, after all; even if Liberator was now supposed to be a democracy he was fairly sure that some things weren't going to change. 

More importantly Avon hadn't said no outright to him about the other thing, not even after finding out about him and Tarrant. He hasn't been exactly pleased, but maybe that wasn't altogether bad?

 

"This is getting us nowhere," Cally said. "We should at least establish our aims and priorities instead of just bickering over where to go next. Avon, you haven't said much."

"There isn't much worth saying." Avon leaned back in his chair. "Until we establish whether Blake is alive or dead the rest of this is essentially irrelevant."

Score one for Selinda's assessment, Vila thought. 

"Dayna?" 

"We should go after Servalan," Dayna said. 

Tarrant was sprawled on the sofa next to Dayna. He looked up at Cally's question. 

"Tarrant? What's your main priority?" 

"I thought everyone knew that by now." Tarrant's eyes slid over to Vila and he smiled. "But if you're talking about the ship, then to defeat the Feds we need allies and to get allies we need to show that we're worth following. I don't think it matters what we do as long as it gets us talked about." 

Two points to the psycho-strategist. Cally was looking at him now. "Vila?" 

He hadn't really expected them to ask him. He didn't have an answer ready. The psycho-strategists had said that Avon and Tarrant's plans could kill them all but there didn't seem to be much else on offer. 

"We can't do anything if we're dead," he said. "The puppeteers might be horrible smug bastards but they were right about that. I think we should be extremely careful."

"No surprise there," Avon said. "That leaves you, Cally." 

"Actually, I agree with all of you," she said. "Avon, can Orac's new abilities help with finding Blake? " 

"If they can't we've all wasted a great deal of time for nothing." Avon frowned at the faces turned towards him. "I'm still working on it. It's not like just turning a switch." 

"Then we should find out what the Federation is currently up to before we decide anything specific," Cally suggested. 

"Very well," Avon said. "Once we're got more data I suppose we will need to come back and hash this out some more."

 

"Well now. You again. Are you sure you haven't got the wrong room?"

"Yes," Vila said, feeling less sure by the second. 

Avon considered him for a moment. "What is it that you actually want, Vila?" 

That wasn't an easy question. Vila shuffled from foot to foot, caught himself doing it and stopped.

"I want to be on your side," he said. 

"Is that what you said to Tarrant as well?" 

Vila sniffed. "I don't think Tarrant needs anyone on his side. He does all right on his own."

"But you think I need someone?"

Vila could only blurt out what he was thinking. "You lost Blake." 

Avon stiffened. "And you think you're his replacement?" 

"No, of course not. But I could be sort of company." 

"Sort of company?" Avon did not look entirely impressed. He turned back inside and Vila's heart sank.

"Hadn't you better come in, then?" Avon said without turning back.

As Vila let the door close behind him Avon was already undoing the fastenings on his leather jacket.

"Should I?" Vila asked, a little hesitantly. He'd expected a bit more conversation first. Or maybe a kiss. 

"If you don't, things will get awkward shortly."

"Oh. Yes, of course. " 

This was not how it had been with Tarrant. That kiss had led quite naturally to their hands over each other and within half a minute they'd been pulling off each other's clothes with laughter and a great deal of enthusiasm. 

He wasn't supposed to be thinking about Tarrant now. It had always been about Avon, always. This, now, was what he wanted, with an ache so strong that it no longer felt quite like desire. He found that his fingers at his shirt fastenings were motionless and he couldn't quite get them to move again. 

"Can we maybe just talk for a bit." 

"Cold feet?" Avon asked, pulling his shirt over his head and displaying his chest and muscled shoulders in the process. It didn't help.

Not just feet. Vila felt nervous all over. "I don't think I can do this with both of you. Maybe you were right and I'm too conventional. It doesn't feel right."

"I though Tarrant was a one off aberration? That's certainly what you implied earlier." 

"I'm... not entirely sure. Sorry" 

Avon swung his jacket back over his bare shoulders. "If you're not sure, you are in the wrong room. You might as well leave now. We certainly haven't got anything to talk about."

 

Vila was nursing a coffee and a headache in the deserted rec room when Tarrant swung lithely around the door post. 

"Oh. Hello. I didn't expect to see you here. Were those the fastest mutual orgasms in history or should I take it that things did not go according to plan?" 

"I think I've screwed everything up," Vila said rather bleakly. "As usual." 

"Would you like me to punch him?" Tarrant offered. "I'm always happy to do that on any pretext."

"He didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who sort of turned him down."

"Him too? Is there anyone in this ship you do want to sleep with?" 

That dig was justified, Vila supposed. It has been barely an hour previously, as the meeting broke up, that he'd declined a direct invitation, without much grace, and Tarrant had easily guessed what his alternative plans were. Of course the man would be somewhat offended. 

"There might be," he said. "But I've screwed that up as well. If you want to shout at me, go ahead. I deserve it." 

"Did Avon shout?" Tarrant sounded more curious than cross. 

"No. He just threw me out."

"Didn't I always say he was a heartless bastard? Well, good. Now you're unexpectedly at liberty I can repeat my previous invitation. And I won't yell or kick you out if talking's all you want to do."

The prospect of simply jumping back into bed with Tarrant and carrying on where they had left off was so appealing that Vila had to wrap his fingers around the edge of his seat with one hand to stop himself getting up. 

"I don't think I should," he said reluctantly. "I need to work things out in my head first."

"Oh." Tarrant stepped back a little. "I'd better leave you to think then. " And before Vila could say anything more he disappeared back round the doorway and Vila could hear his footsteps walking a little too fast away.


	16. Testing

"I can't guarantee the results," Avon said. "But we need to test the psycho-strategist software somehow and this seems like the safest option." 

He didn't look at Vila as he said 'safest'. Avon hadn't been around the others much for the last few days but on the occasions when they encountered each other he'd barely glanced at Vila at all. 

The screen was of secondary, or more accurately tertiary, importance to Vila but since he didn't want to be caught staring at anyone he looked at it. 

It showed a small group of buildings surrounded by a few fields of green, alone on a barren looking white and brown continent on a planet labelled just as Y342. Not nearly big enough for a colony and there were no sign of ships or other vehicles on the ground. 

"Is it Fed?" Cally asked. Even the smallest Fed stations were guarded, these days. 

"No." Avon pulled a heap of data onto the main screen beside the image. "It belongs to a highly isolationist people called the Yteris. This research station is so far their sole foothold outside their own star system. A methodical people, by all accounts. They wanted to know what their colonists would encounter before they sent them there." 

Tarrant's frown mirrored Vila's bafflement. "Why should we care about these Yteris colonising an empty planet?"

"Zen, rotate planet image." 

A second continent, this time more brown than white. The image zoomed in to another, much larger set of buildings. Less green this time, but more grey scars across the local landscape. 

"The data being sent back to Yteri suggests that they have no idea that there's a new Fed penal colony on the planet, well outside the agreed border."

"Work camps?" Cally asked. They'd seen what conditions those created. 

"More like Cygnus Alpha— dump and abandon. The colony's graded 50TF - estimated to be of no economic benefit until it's been established for at least fifty years. They've scheduled a drop of more involuntary colonists and some cheap equipment every five years or so." 

"No guards then," Tarrant said. "But hardly a mission for us. No-one's going to be impressed by us picking up a few convicts, the Feds won't miss them and no other planet is going to want them." 

"You haven't been listening, as usual." Avon said. "This isn’t a playground for you to show off your heroics. It’s a software test. I want to be sure that Orac’s new predictive facility actually works before we need to rely on it.”

“So what does it predict?” Cally asked.

“That the outcome of our actions on this planet will be moderately favourable for us.” 

He raised a hand to forestall the next question. “That's no point in asking me what actions. I have programmed two limitations into the prediction software.  Orac will not tell us what specific actions to take, nor what the precise result will be. This is a human controlled ship and it’s going to stay that way. None of us are going to start taking our orders from a box of wires.”

That sparked off another round of objections and questions but Vila's interest in the whole project, slender to start off with, had vanished as soon as Avon said 'software test'. He sat back on the sofa and watched Avon's brusque gestures, wondering, not for the first time, how different things might have been now if he'd only kept his nerve. 

"Shift up". A body came down heavily next to him. Tarrant's voice was barely audible under the remonstrations going on close by. "You might want to try looking a little less like a starving man with a three course banquet just out of reach."

"I am a starving man," Vila retorted. "If I'd known this meeting was going to go on for so long I'd have brought a packed lunch with me."

"I haven't seen you hanging around the galley helping yourself to food as much as usual." Tarrant said. "Are you still moping around, thinking?" 

Vila had in fact been determedly not thinking about his romantic dilemma. He wasn't even sure that it still existed - surely both men had got tired of his indecision by now and moved on, mostly probably to each other. The last week might have been a bit lonely and unexciting compared to the days before it but it had at least been peaceful. 

With Avon close in front of him and Tarrant's thigh rather snug against his, peaceful suddenly seemed less attractive than exciting had been. It was difficult not to remember just how good Tarrant had been. 

"Perhaps you two have some input? Or are we interrupting more important personal business?" Avon's voice cut through his thoughts. 

"Oh, do whatever you like," Tarrant said airily. "If Orac thinks this will turn out well regardless it doesn't matter what we decide."

"That's settled then. Dayna and I will go," Cally said to Avon. "At least we can be bothered to think about it." 

 

"Zen, maintain high geo stationary orbit and full scans. Vila, come on."

"Don't you need to do your pilot stuff from here?" Vila asked. 

"We're not moving out of orbit, and Zen will spot trouble long before I would." Tarrant was already at the flight deck exit. 

"Where are we going?"

"The galley." Tarrant called back. "Come on!"

That wasn't the answer that Vila had anticipated. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. 

A few minutes later he was looking at the third drink in bemusement. "What's that for?" 

"Bring it along, will you?" Tarrant seized his coffee and was on the move again. 

"Now where?" 

"Since Avon doesn't want to hang out with us on the flight deck, we're going to hang out with him in the teleport room."

Vila had briefly wondered why Avon had volunteered to man the teleport but he'd mainly been relieved that he wouldn't have to. It hadn't occurred to him that Avon might be avoiding one or both of them. 

Keeping up with Tarrant's long legged stride whilst not spilling either drink didn't make conversation easy but he tried. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

"No need to be nervous. You're the one at the wheel here. If anyone should be jittery it's me. I'm the one whose most likely to get chucked out in the cold."

"I'm not driving anything." Vila protested. "I'm being dragged around by a crazy pilot, as usual."

"That's because you always take some prodding to get moving. Hello Avon. We've brought you coffee."

"Even more irresponsible than usual," Avon didn't look up fron the console. "I'm monitoring our colleagues' transmissions. You ought to know better than to try to distract me."

"Got it covered," Tarrant said. "Zen, increase volume of all incoming transmission by 50%. There. I promise you won't miss a thing, however distracted you become."

Vila carefully placed the spare coffee on the edge of the teleport desk. "This wasn't my idea," he told the back of Avon's head and stepped back as Avon turned rather swiftly. 

"I didn't for a moment imagine it was. I presume you're still doing what Tarrant tells you to, as you've been doing ever since the puppeteers finished reprogramming you. Another birthday present from his aunt, I suppose."

"The problem with cynicism," Tarrant said, "is that it can sound uncannily like bitterness. You'd better tell him how far off course he is, Vila. He won't believe it from me."

Vila tried hard not to blush. "Tarrant and me, we're, well, not doing anything. In case you cared, which you probably don't."

"Don't feed him get-out lines," Tarrant said. "Of course he cares." His smile widened. "And if he doesn't then all he has to do is say so and you and I can find somewhere a lot more comfortable to finish this conversation in private. Well, Avon? Going to step back and leave the field to me?" 

Avon's look in response was not so much chill as glacial. "Are you still vacillating?" he said to Vila. "Do you even remember that you neither liked nor trusted him a few weeks ago? And with good reason--before he decided that there was something he wanted from you he treated you like dirt. You're not that stupid normally. His change of tune is easily explained. Yours stinks of psycho-strategist meddling."

Vila sighed. "Is this still your plan?"

"It doesn't take a plan to point out what's obvious."

"I think it's your plan. I think that you think that if you can persuade me against Tarrant I'll sleep with you instead without you having to go to the effort of being nice to me."

"Nice? If you're looking to be courted you've come to the wrong place."

"Yes," Vila said sadly. "I think I probably have. Tarrant, can you give us a few minutes alone?" 

Tarrant looked at first as if he would protest, then shrugged and walked out. 

"What now?" Avon asked. 

"Is any of this about me?"

"What else do you think it's about?"

"A bit of sex and getting one up on him. Probably not in that order."

Avon frowned at him. "And what else do you think it ought to be about?" 

"I think I rather need it to be about someone thinking I'm worth making some sort of an effort for. At a minimum."

"And you think that someone is Tarrant? Really?" 

"Right now I just want to know if there's any chance that it's you. Because that's how I feel, and I really don't think this is going to work out well if I'm the only one."

"I see."There was silence for a moment. Avon was fiddling with a dial on the teleport deck that Vila was pretty sure never needed adjusting. 

Finally he turned round to face Vila. He looked a little sad, Vila thought. 

"No."

"All right." Vila said. "That's OK. I didn't think so. But it would be a bit stupid of me to carry on, in that case. Given everything."

"Yes," Avon said. "I can understand that. Very well. Do you seriously think that Tarrant is a better bet, though?" 

"Why do you even care?" Vila muttered to himself, then more loudly. "Oh. Wait here."

"Where else am I going to be?" 

"Yes, well, just wait." Vila made for the door that Tarrant had exited through. 

"Everything sorted?" Tarrant was back on the flight deck

"You need to talk to him."

"Why? You're the one making the decision."

"Because it's not like that," Vila said. "He doesn't want me. He wants you."

Tarrant looked astounded. "Me? Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely. He's jealous as hell every time he thinks about us and its certainly not the thought of me that's doing it."

"Well, that's a turn up for the books. What do you think I should do about it?" 

"Maybe you could try telling him you're crazy about him."

"But I'm not!" Tarrant looked dismayed. "I mean he's fit enough and I'm not saying that I'd never let him fuck me if the opportunity arise, but I don't want a relationship with him. I don't want to wake up next to him in the morning, or give him presents, or share private jokes, or... Well, no. Not him. Avon will just have to get over it. It's you I want."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Oh I'm very seldom serious. But I am sincere. Forget Avon, if he's not interested in you. We need to talk about us."

"I can't do that to him," Vila said. "What if it breaks his heart?" 

"What heart?" Tarrant said. "Come on, this way no-one gets anything , which is clearly rubbish."

"I can't just do that," Vila insisted. 

Tarrant shrugged. "All right. I'll have to talk to Avon, I suppose, if you promise to at least listen to me when I get back."

 

Vila sat on the flight deck and watched the unmoving planet below him on the screen. A couple of times Dayna checked in and Avon’s expressionless voice replied.  

He felt as upset as he could remember feeling for years.  He’d told himself a thousand times that Avon had no real interest in him but it was only on having it confirmed without any shred of doubt that he had really lost hope.  Now he had nothing but the bleak expectation that the Alphas would carry on where they’d left off in Avon’s rooms.  Which was good, really, for them.  He wanted both of them to be happy.  He liked Tarrant a lot; the man had turned out to be a decent bloke and good company, in or out of bed.  And, well, he couldn’t ever wish Avon as miserable as he was right now. 

He shouldn’t have got involved with either of them. Delta and Alphas- how could it ever work? Neither of them had needed him, whatever Tarrant might suggest, but they’d been foolish enough to take him seriously for a brief time and this was the outcome. He should have remained the ship clown.

Maybe they’d be grateful afterwards to him for bringing them together. Tarrant might. Avon wouldn’t.  Maybe all this whole saga achieved would be that they treated him more like a human being. If so he didn’t think it was worth the cost.  He’d rather still be treated as the rat that Tarrant had called him and not have had his heart ripped out.  

 

 _Alert,_ Zen's voice came. _Scans detect missile launched from planet surface._

"What! Where! Evasive action, Zen! Quick!" Vila stared wildly around the empty room. Why was nobody else here to take over? Then he remembered. 

_Evasive action is not required. Liberator had not been targeted._

Cally’s voice came over the intercom. “Teleport, Avon, now! Things are going to hell down here.”

"Are they OK? Zen?" 

_Teleport is in process._

There was a long pause before Tarrant ran into the room and straight past Vila up to his console. "Zen. Report. What's happening down there?"

_Six ballistic missiles have been launched from the settlement below us._

"Aimed where? Show me their trajectories."

A diagram of the planet appeared, with dotted lines emerging from a single point in all directions. As the planet rotated Vila could see then all converging from every direction to a second, single point. 

"They're attacking the other colony! Shit! Why the hell didn't we know they had missiles? Just a research post, he said. Avon! What's happening back there?"

Cally's voice came back. "We're on board. Dayna's been shot and we're getting her to the med room."

"OK. Be ready for some hard maneuvures."

"Not not, Tarrant! Give us five minutes to get her there."

Tarrant cursed again. "Zen, times to missile arrival."

_Missiles will impact targets in between six minutes twenty three and eight minutes fifty_

"Right. Cally, Avon, I'm taking the ship into planetary atmosphere. I'll be as gentle as I can. The second Dayna's in the tank tell me, and then hang onto something. Vila, ready the torpedoes. They haven't got much accuracy in atmosphere so we'll have to get close. And watch the scans for anything coming at us, from either lot."

The next few minutes went by in a chaos of action. The ship bumped through the edge of the atmosphere almost sedately at first then, when Tarrant had got the all clear from the med room, in a rush of jerks and accererations as the shop turned in tight curves after the missiles. 

Vila focused and fired over and over, only half aware that Avon was here now and had taken over the scans. He didn't know how many torpedoes he'd sent after the barely visible missiles when Tarrant finally said, "That's the last of them. You can stand down, Vila. Good job."

"Did we get them all?"

"None of them reached their target. Two exploded in the air when we hit them. Nukes. Dirty ones. What sort of idiots use nukes on their own planet?"

"Its not the massacre they were aiming for: we stopped that, but they'll make the Fed colony unviable in the long run," Avon said. "They'll most likely survive short term but the radiation will be in the soil, the air, everything the colonists takes in. At least on this continent. The other lot will probably be all right."

"Murderous bastards." Tarrant said. "We should fly back there and teach them a lesson. For Dayna, too. How is she?"

"You'd better ask Cally. She was stable when I left them."

"We need a few minutes to exchange information and regroup," Tarrant said. "Zen can monitor the scans, make sure they don't send any surprises towards us. Then we'll decide how we're going to answer this." 

 

"Just tell us what you bloody well knew!" 

"There's no point in swearing at a box of electronics," Avon said. "The output won't change just because you've lost your temper." 

Tarrant turned on him " All right then. You tell me why this piece of crap isn't answering the fucking question? Did it know about the nukes when it told us interfering was a good idea or not?" 

"It's not answering because the answer apparently comes within my restrictions on the information it can provide."

"How does it work that out? We've done what we were going to do!" 

"I don't know," Avon admitted. "I can only assume that the scenario has not yet finished playing out."

"Playing? That's a newly irradiated planet down there. How much more playing do you think we should do?"

Vila was only half listening to the argument. Something had come up on his screen. 

"Guys! Shut up for a moment. You need to see this. Zen, play the message on the main screen, from the start."

The elderly man on the screen was in a dimly lit room of some sort with rough stone walls. His voice was shaking a little but the words were clear. 

"This is an emergency transmission from Y342. We are under attack. Repeat, under attack from the renegade ship Liberator. Our neighbours fron the Federation have already been subject to a despicable nuclear attack."

The pictures on the screen were of Liberator tearing through the upper atmosphere. A close up showed the torpedoes being fired, cut to the mushroom cloud of one of the missiles exploding, then the second one, cutting again to fuzzy pictures of people running and screaming in panic.

"If anyone is out there- Federation, anyone- please come to our aid. We don't know how long we have until these terrorists track us down and finish their butchery. I repeat, this is an emergency transmission from Y342... "

Tarrant was already at the pilot's console. "Too right we're going to track those bastards down. I'm taking the ship straight back to their bloody research station. We've got a few torpedoes left.

The ship banked sharply. "Zen!" Tarrant snapped. "Scan for human life signs on the continent below. 

_No human life signs detected._

"It looked as if they were underground," Vila suggested.

"Zen. Can you detect subterranean life signs?" Tarrant demanded

_Negative_

"You can't detect them or there aren't any?" 

_No life signs detected. Normal scan penetration is limited to a maximum of 2.3 metres of earth, 1.2 metres of rock_

"Can you adjust scan for more penetration? Say three metres of rock?" 

_Additional focus and processing required. It will take approximately forty minutes to scan an area of ten square metres. Please indicate required coordinates_

"If they aren't directly under the research station, and I'm guessing they aren't, that could take hours, days even." Avon said. "And they've just told any Federation ships in the vicinity exactly where we are. Annoyance isn't a good reason to stay around to get shot at." 

"We could at least take out the buildings."

"And give them more video footage of us destroying things to broadcast? No one will believe that they were behind the attack if their station is in ruins."

"All right. We could teleport down there. Those nukes must have left some evidence."

"Booby traps," Vila said. "They are just the sort for that. It could take ages to defuse anything they've left for us."

"Theres nothing to gain by staying here," Avon said. "We should get out before company arrives."

In the end Tarrant wasn't so much persuaded as overruled, three to one.

"When Dayna wakes up we are going to have a proper meeting about all this," he muttered, and flew the ship away from the system in an uncharacteristically sullen silence. 

Since nobody was talking to anybody else and Dayna wasn't expected to wake up for a while yet, Vila went to bed. Rather to his surprise he slept well and the prospect of breakfast found him in the galley before anyone else. 

Dayna was a close second, fully recovered and eager to regale him with the events that had led to her injuries. The Yteris were undoubtedly thoroughly unpleasant people - it appeared that they had been planning an attack on their neighbours for some time and it was only the prospect of Federation retaliation that had stopped them. 

By the time she had done the others had joined them, Tarrant last, lugging Orac in his arms. He set it down on the table between the group. 

"As I see it there are three questions for this meeting to settle," he said. "Firstly, what do we do about the Yteris? Secondly, what do we do about that broadcast? And thirdly, what the hell went wrong with Orac's forecast? Avon? Any words of wisdom?" 

Avon gave him a blank look as he slid Orac's key in. 

"Orac. Do you still predict that the result of our intervention on Y342 will end up favourably?" 

_On the contrary. It should be obvious even to humans that your reputation in this sector has been significantly damaged. This is likely to result in operational difficulties in obtaining supplies, information and free passage around the non Federation systems. In addition..._

"Enough!" Avon said. "So why was your forecast so wrong?"

_"The prediction software that you unwisely installed in my system is clearly faulty. It must be removed immediately."_

"Removed?" Tarrant jumped into the slight pause. "All the trouble we've been to in order to get your damn software and now it doesn't work? Tell me that bloody box is joking." 

"It can't just be faulty," Avon said to the room in general. "It was checked and rechecked. I need to run diagnostics, find out what's happened. Everything else can wait."

That caused a fairly major argument, the rest of the crew being of the opinion that dealing with the consequences of the Yteris broadcast was a more pressing matter than testing prediction software. It was finally settled with the agreement that Avon would investigate Orac's unexpected fallibity and the rest of them would put together a broadcast using Zen's records to illustrate what had really happened. Vila silently agreed with Avon that this was unlikely to do much good, but it was obvious that they had to try. 

"As for the bastards themselves," Tarrant said, "we'll drop by again some time when they aren't expecting us. They can't keep the Feds around as their defence forever."

 

The last few times Vila had come to the computer room Avon had been entirely focused on Orac and Vila and his messages had been impatiently waved away. This time the man was sitting motionless, his gaze fixed somewhere between the wall opposite and the ceiling. 

Vila knocked tentatively and Avon looked round. 

"What now?" 

"The message had been broadcast. We're going to wait around for a few hours in case anyone gets back to us, but not long enough for company to arrive."

"Huh," Avon said, rather vaguely. 

"How's Orac doing? Do you know what's wrong yet?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh. Good." He considered Avon's expression with some dismay. "Or maybe not so good. Is it?"

"No." Avon focused a little more on him. "I suppose you might as well know. You're as deep in this as any of us." 

That didn't sound encouraging. "Maybe we should call the others..." 

"Sit down." Avon said. 

Vila sat opposite him. There was another silence. "You were going to tell me why the psycho-strategy software was broken." Vila prompted eventually. 

"It isn't broken. It never existed."

Vila stared at him. "So what did you put in Orac?"

"A mimic. A very clever mimic. Or more accurately, a very specialist mimic. It didn't have to fool everyone, or anyone. It only had to fool me." 

Avon's flicker of a smile was tired and unhappy. "I imagine it wouldn't have been difficult for a good psycho-strategist to calculate what sort of tests and questions a certain Kerr Avon would apply. The program only had to respond with pre-set answers. There was no artificial intelligence involved. The only intelligence belonged to the people behind it."

"At least they didn't turn out to be our enemies. Not really, anyway.". Vila was desperately trying to think of some angle that might make Avon feel better. From the man's expression that clearly wasn't it. 

"Tarrant was right from the start. We should have run as soon as we heard the word 'puppeteers'. Instead I took their bait. And even after we knew the software had been used to bait their trap I still kept seeing what I wanted to see - what they knew I'd want to see. Fool's gold."

"That's not fair. You didn't just trust it. That's why we went to Y-whatever it was. To test it." 

"Are you seriously trying to be consoling?" Avon asked. " It's not your strong suit." 

"I'm right though. If you hadn't been sensible enough to run a test and we'd used it to go up against Servalan - what would have happened then?" 

"Something a great deal worse," Avon conceded. "Though Dayna might disagree - she came near enough to being killed this time, on my supposedly safe run."

"But she wasn't killed. And now we know your thing's a fake, because you tested it. The whole thing has really only cost us some time and we've got a world of than on our hands. And Tarrant's got his silly little ship out of it so you could say we're ahead."

"You have some very odd ideas," Avon said, but Villa thought he looked a little less unhappy. "I suppose I have better explain the remarkable success of my testing program to the others." 

He made as if to stand up, then stopped and sank down again. "While we're here, you might as well tell me what you thought of the proposal? 

"What proposal?'

"You mean Tarrant hasn't talked to you? I suppose I should know better than to rely on him for anything."

"I think he's been a bit distracted by the Yteris being grade A bastards," Vila said cautiously. "Is this something personal?" 

"You might call it that," Avon said. "We are undoubtedly in something of a tangle. You're infatuated with me and Tarrant had a crush on you."

"And what about you?" Vila asked. "What do you want." 

Avon eyed him. "Let's just say that you're more observant that he is." 

"I knew you liked him!" Vila crowed. He might not be entirely happy about it but he was at least right. 

"I can assure you that liking doesn't come into it. Anyway, if that had been everything that would have been a rather unsatisfactory end to it. But you've already demonstrated your willingness to sleep with our pilot, he's apparently got neither morals nor inhibitions and I'm prepared to be flexible."

He read Vila's expression and raised a hand. "Very well. More than prepared. It might be something worth a little effort, and not just on his behalf." 

"That's your proposition? That I sleep with both of you?"

"That's the two-thirds of our proposal that relates directly to you. The rest is a matter between me and Tarrant. Unless you want to combine matters, of course. He and I agree that would be tidiest." 

"Tidiest? I bet Tarrant wouldn't have put it that way."

That raised a small smile. "No doubt you're right. Anyway that's the proposition. I presume you'll need some time to think it over."

"Not really," Vila said. "That is the stupidest thing I've heard since... Well, since the last time you proposed it. The one thing guaranteed is that when it all goes wrong everyone gets hurt."

"So?" 

"So, yes, of course. But when you're weeping into your coffee and Tarrant's threatening to fly Liberator into the nearest star I really am going to say I told you so."

"I don't think I need worry about that. There's nobody on this ship I'd weep over," Avon said, and glanced over at Orac. "First things first, I suppose."

 

"This was the desired result, of course." Tarrant had hitched himself up the bed a little and was now looking down at the other two men. 

"I should hope so," Avon's voice was partially muffled by the pillow that he was lying face down on. "You did enough scheming to get here." 

"Not my desired result, though I can't fault it." Tarrant's hand slid into Vila's hair. 

Vila, eyes tight shut, had been trying to consign every detail of what had just happened to memory, just in case it never happened again. He tilted his head back into the caress and rolled on his side so that he could smooth a hand across the man's furred groin and past that to the hard muscle of Avon's back. One easy roll from here and he could be on top of Tarrant again, and maybe the man would again spread his legs to accommodate him and crane his neck upwards for a kiss. 

His cock twitched but it was not really co-operating, not yet, with the sweat not yet dry on any of them. He might as well pay attention to the conversation. 

"This again? They aren't omnipotent and why should they care anyway? It's far more likely that they just wanted the Y342 colony made unviable." Avon sounded as if he were trying to be sharp and failing dismally. 

"Your software was a side show, I'm certain," Tarrant said. "This is what it was about." 

Avon rolled over onto his back at that with a huff of irritation, but Vila noted that he also shifted himself sideways, back in contact with as much of Tarrant as he could reach, and, quite possibly not incidentally, so Vila's hand was now resting on top of his damp penis. "I might point out to you that if I came to think that I'd been manipulated into this I'd feel obliged to stop." 

"Shut up, Tarrant," Vila said quickly. 

"But..."

"No. Shut up!" 

"You can write your dearest aunt a thank you letter if you really believe she was responsible," Avon suggested. "I'm sure she'll be amused." 

"I might do that." Tarrant slid down again between them. 

If this really was the doing of the puppeteers then Vila was prepared to forgive them all the awful things that they'd done, even Selinda and the Delta experiments. OK, they were terrible people and this was no doubt one more deliberate manipulation for their own ends. 

But he'd screwed Tarrant, the man's legs around his waist and mouth rough against his neck and Avon within arm's reach, naked, hard and watching with every trace of his normal indifference gone. Vila had barely collapsed on top of Tarrant when fingers were exploring his arse and Avon was up behind and then inside him, fucking him slow and hard with his fingers tightly gripping Vila's shoulders while Tarrant's cock pressed into Vila's stomach and the man called up obscene encouragement from below. That was the sort of thing you could forgive anyone anything for, even if there was only the slightest chance they'd had anything to do with bringing it about. 

"Avon? Anyone? Where are you all?" Callys voice came over the intercom.

"Tarrant here. What's the problem?" 

"There's a message come in from the Kalian Confederate in response to our transmission, and I can't raise anyone except Dayna."

"Is it urgent?" Tarrant was stroking Vila's hip. 

"I suppose not. They are half a sector away - they won't get any reply we send for hours. But..."

"Then we'll shower and change and be with you in half an hour or so. Tarrant out." 

"That wasn't particularly subtle, even for you," Avon sad. 

"Well no. Do you really want to try to keep secrets on this ship? The way trouble has a habit of turning up round here, if we want any time to ourselves we're going to have to claim it."

"That's really not the point," Avon said. "I don't have any desire to advertise who I'm in bed with." 

"So which of us are you more embarrassed about? Me or Vila?" As usual, Tarrant seemed to be relishing baiting him. 

"I'm not having this conversation," Avon said. "I am also not sharing a shower."

He rolled with some grace off the bed, scooped up his clothes and stalked, still naked, out of Tarrant's room. 

"He's going to be trouble," Tarrant said, sounding entirely satisfied at the prospect. "Oh, don't look like that, Vila. I promise that I'm not going to let him get away. But someone's got to stop him thinking we're his own private harem and it clearly isn't going to be you." 

"I wouldn't mind that much being in his harem."

"That's why it's a good thing that you've got me to look out for you. Left to yourself you'd be lying down begging to get trampled on. Now, how about a shower that I don't have to lure you into under false pretences?" 

The mention of showers was enough of a reminder for Vila that depending too much on Tarrant to look out for his interests would be unwise. It would be smart to look out for himself, but then, wasn't that always true around Alphas? 

It also reminded him that they'd still got twenty-five minutes before they needed to be anywhere and Tarrant's soapy hands in the warm water were just what he needed to fill those minutes pleasurably. And if things turned out to take a bit longer, well, Avon could wait for them. They weren't his personal harem, after all. 

He stretched, sat up and reached out to take the offered hand with a great deal of enthusiasm. Some Alphas weren't all so bad, really. At least not his Alphas, anyway. 

 

The End


End file.
